Jewish Holidayshttps://jwa.org/topics/jewish-holidays
enEpisode 26: A Thanksgiving Seder (Transcript)https://jwa.org/podcasts/canwetalk/episode-26-a-thanksgiving-seder/transcript
<span>Episode 26: A Thanksgiving Seder (Transcript)</span>
<span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/rlong" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">rlong</span></span>
<span>Fri, 01/18/2019 - 14:50</span>
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<div class="field field-name-field-section-text field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p><a href="https://jwa.org/podcasts/canwetalk/episode-26-thanksgiving-seder">Episode 26: A Thanksgiving Seder</a></p>
<p>Deborah Lauter: We’ve come to call it the Thanksgaddah… so we combined Thanksgiving and the Haggadah with the pun of “Thanks Goddah.” </p>
<p>Barbara Rosenblit: Cute, huh?</p>
<p>Deborah: Yeah, it’s cute. </p>
<p>[Theme music]</p>
<p>Deborah: I’m Deborah Lauter.</p>
<p>Barbara: And I’m Barbara Rosenblit. We’ve known each other a long time.</p>
<p>Deborah: Probably 28 years.</p>
<p>[Theme music]</p>
<p>Nahanni Rous: Welcome back to <em>Can We Talk?</em>, the podcast of the Jewish Women’s Archive. I’m Nahanni Rous. Deborah and Barbara met in Atlanta, where Deborah was a lawyer with the Anti-Defamation League. Barbara teaches history at the Weber School… a pluralistic Jewish day school. The Lauter and Rosenblit families have been having Thanksgiving together for decades. This year, they’ll be in Brooklyn, doing what they always do: eating turkey, being together… and… having a Thanksgiving Seder.</p>
<p>[Theme music fades]</p>
<p>Barbara: We go around the table, very traditional style that way. </p>
<p>Nahanni: But wait a minute. Isn’t the beauty of Thanksgiving that it’s non-sectarian? And that on just this one holiday all we have to do is get together and eat?</p>
<p>Barbara: This holiday for many Jews… you know, you can take a sigh of relief… you don’t have to go to shul… you don't have to... you can be a pure true, total American on this day. And so some people sort of can flee in some way the Jewish nature of celebration. This is a way to say no, you know, this is the opportunity to celebrate being an American and being a Jew and how those really are interlocked. </p>
<p>Deborah: Yeah.</p>
<p>Nahanni: The seder begins… “This is a tale of deliverance.” I ask if Deborah and Barbara if they’re comparing the founding of America with the Passover story and the exodus from Egypt. </p>
<p>Deborah: No, not so much actually, not at all. This is celebrating us in this moment of history…. America’s history is a documented history. Biblical history is our story, our narrative that we fall back on…</p>
<p>Deborah: The emphasis really here is on American history, but it’s guided by Jewish values. </p>
<p>Nahanni: The seder describes the 1621 harvest festival between the Pilgrims and their Native American neighbors. It acknowledges that some think Thanksgiving erases the violence and discrimination White colonists perpetrated against Native Americans. For others, the holiday commemorates a moment of mutual respect when coexistence seemed possible.</p>
<p>Deborah: We talk a lot about the American experiment and what does Democracy mean. We read the Gettysburg Address… We sing the Battle Hymn of the Republic. We do the Bill of Rights. Even though these documents seem heavy, it’s definitely interspersed with a lot of joy. So we actually do four cups of wine and we raise our cups to God bless the Republic, God Bless Columbia, God Bless Cincinnatus, and God Bless America. So the different names for the United States.</p>
<p>Nahanni: The seder also includes Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” speech. They’ve recently added “The New Colossus,” Emma Lazarus’s poem about the Statue of Liberty, and this year, they’ll add a prayer for the health of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. </p>
<p>Barbara: It is a very joyful event and I think it gives us a moment to remember what America is founded on… you know, kind of a wistful reminder that these documents are not fiction, these documents really are the foundation of the world that could be and that we can continue to fight for.</p>
<p>Deborah: One of my favorites is the letter that George Washington wrote to the Tuoro synagogue in Rhode Island, and this was in 1790. They had sent him a lovely letter offering blessings and he had responded, “May the Children of the Stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of all of the other inhabitants while everyone shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.”</p>
<p>Nahanni: Readings are interspersed with songs, and one of the families’ favorites is “God Bless America.” This year, Deborah’s been thinking more about the history of the song. Irving Berlin wrote it in 1918, but it wasn’t released in public until Kate Smith sang it on the radio in 1938, the day after Kristallnacht.</p>
<p>Archival audio of Kate Smith: [Applause] While the storm clouds gather, far across the sea, let us swear allegiance to a land that’s free. Let us all be grateful for a land… </p>
<p>Deborah: There were some who loved the song so much and they felt it should actually replace “The Star Spangled Banner” as the national anthem, but there was a wave of antisemites who were like, no the Jews, we can’t have a song written by a Jew being our national anthem. So as we sing “God Bless America” this year, I want to talk about that history...</p>
<p>Barbara: Before we sing it.</p>
<p>Deborah: Before we sing it... so that we can appreciate who Irving Berlin was, as a refugee to this country, and what our history was like, because I think particularly for younger generations who are sort of waking up to Pittsburgh and what does antisemitism in America mean today… that they need to understand what the history was in this country and that those kinds of forces have always been there.</p>
<p>Nahanni: In fact, right in New York City, three months after “God Bless America” debuted on the radio, twenty-thousand Nazi supporters held a rally in Madison Square Garden. </p>
<p>Deborah: And some of the rhetoric was absolutely chilling, and some of it you see parallels to today.</p>
<p>Nahanni: Deborah says they’ll talk about the recent killing of 11 Jews at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh. She also wants to discuss freedom of the press. In other years they’ve focused on different social justice issues: reproductive choice, mass incarceration…</p>
<p>Deborah: I like it to be sort of a wake up call for those who really haven't been paying as much attention to what's been happening. To get them to think... what does our democracy mean and how can they make a difference in it. So, I think this year more than ever it’s going to be a very interesting discussion. </p>
<p>Nahanni: But it’s not all seriousness. </p>
<p>Barbara: Don’t forget the Mishnah! </p>
<p>Deborah: We never forget the Mishnah Thanksgiving… Barbara wrote a piece that was in the original Thanksgiving… she can talk about.</p>
<p>Babara: It’s Mishnah Thanksgiving.</p>
<p>Nahanni: A parody of a tractate of Mishnah. Here’s an excerpt.</p>
<p>Barbara: <em>Eize hu yom ha’hodaya</em>. What is Thanksgiving? The roasted Turkey is stuffed or not stuffed. The cranberries are jellied or whole berries. If they are jellied they must be canned. If they are whole berries they can be fresh or frozen or canned. The pumpkin may be canned or fresh, but it must be cooked. Two are preparing a meal, or one was preparing and one was serving. This one says, “I prepared the meal so I will not clean.” This one says, “I set the table, and served the meal, so I will not clean.” At least two guests are invited to the Thanksgiving meal. This one says the turkey is not as good as your Grandmother’s. And this one says we are eating the meal too late. Whenever they complain, or do not help prepare, they shall not be invited back the next year.</p>
<p>Barbara: And then after that we raise a glass and the charge is, Quell your hunger and wait some more, here we raise our second glass of wine and say God Bless Cincinnatus! </p>
<p>Barbara: In the Mishnah... the line about the person who cooks doesn’t have to do dishes… that’s my favorite line, cause I do the cooking. </p>
<p>Nahanni: What’s on the menu this year?</p>
<p>Deborah: Oh, it’s always the same. It’s the turkey, it’s my father’s (alavhasholom) stuffing recipe… sweet potatoes… cranberries, always have to have the jellied… the Mishnah refers to those who like the jellied and those who like whole berry, so those will both be there. </p>
<p>Nahanni: Do people get to eat before, or do they have to finish the seder before they get any food?</p>
<p>Deborah: They have to finish. Yeah. [Laughs]</p>
<p>Me: Does anyone complain?</p>
<p>Barbara: No… you heard the Mishnah. If they complain they don’t come back.</p>
<p>Barbara: It’s ultimately a remarkably elevating evening, as well as nourishing physically and emotionally. Yeah...</p>
<p>Nahanni: A lot of people just get together and eat!</p>
<p>Deborah: Which is fine too. </p>
<p>Barbara: Anything to get together, you know, that’s a good thing too. Yeah.</p>
<p>Barbara: There’s certainly meaning in going around the table before you have a wonderful meal and say what you’re grateful for. This is another version of that. </p>
<p>Deborah: We’re grateful for American democracy.</p>
<p>Barbara: Yeah.</p>
<p>Archival audio of Kate Smith: God Bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her and guide her, through the night with a light from above. Through the mountains and the prairies, to the oceans, white with foam… God Bless America, my home sweet home… </p>
<p>Nahanni: May we all enjoy lively discussions, good food, and good company this Thanksgiving… in whatever way we choose to mark the day. </p>
<p>Nahanni: Thank you for joining us for another episode of <em>Can We Talk?</em>, the podcast of the Jewish Women’s Archive. Our team includes Judith Rosenbaum, the Executive Director of the Jewish Women’s Archive, and Production Assistant Becky Long. Our theme music is by Girls in Trouble. </p>
<p>Archival audio of Kate Smith: God Bless America, land that I love.</p>
<p>Nahanni: You’re now listening to an archival recording of Kate Smith singing Irving Berlin’s God Bless America. If you’d like to hear more about Emma Lazarus’s poem “The New Colossus” check out <a href="https://jwa.org/podcasts/canwetalk/episode-9-sonnet-for-america">Episode 9: A Sonnet for America</a>, our Thanksgiving episode from two years ago. You can find it with all our other episodes at <a href="https://jwa.org/canwetalk">jwa.org/canwetalk. </a></p>
<p>Nahanni: In the spirit of Thanksgiving… we are grateful for your financial support. Please consider making a donation at <a href="https://jwa.org/">jwa.org</a>. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone… until next time. I’m Nahanni Rous.</p>
<p>[Archival audio fades]</p>
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</section>Fri, 18 Jan 2019 19:50:07 +0000rlong25197 at https://jwa.orgEpisode 26: A Thanksgiving Sederhttps://jwa.org/podcasts/canwetalk/episode-26-thanksgiving-seder
<span>Episode 26: A Thanksgiving Seder</span>
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<span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/d7admin" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">d8admin</span></span>
<span>Mon, 11/19/2018 - 10:20</span>
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden field-item"><p>The Lauter and Rosenblit families have been celebrating Thanksgiving together for decades. This year will be no different. Together, they will eat turkey, discuss what it means to be a Jewish American, and have a Thanksgiving... seder.</p>
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<div class="field-label">Podcast Transcript</div>
<div class="field-item"><a href="https://jwa.org/podcasts/canwetalk/episode-26-a-thanksgiving-seder/transcript" hreflang="und">Episode 26: A Thanksgiving Seder (Transcript)</a></div>
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Mon, 19 Nov 2018 15:20:54 +0000d8admin25065 at https://jwa.orgAre you a Good Jew or a Bad Jew?https://jwa.org/blog/are-you-good-jew-or-bad-jew
<span>Are you a Good Jew or a Bad Jew?</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/blog/author/rachel-silverman" hreflang="und">Rachel Silverman</a><span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/rking" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">rking</span></span>
<span>Tue, 08/21/2018 - 09:51</span>
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<div class="field field-name-field-image field-type-image field-label-hidden field-item"> <a href="https://jwa.org/media/good-jew-or-bad-jew"><img src="https://jwa.org/themes/jwawesome/images/lazy.gif" width="300" height="202" alt="Good Jew or Bad Jew?" title="Good Jew or Bad Jew?" data-src="//d3q94h10rclvvz.cloudfront.net/sites/default/files/styles/scale_width_300px/public/mediaobjects/goodjewbadjewmeme.jpg?itok=yEA8wgSO" class="b-lazy" typeof="foaf:Image" /></a>
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<div class="field field-name-field-section-text field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>One of the most shocking moments of my young Jewish life was when my father told me that some people do not use electricity on Saturdays.</p>
<p>This was when I first discovered that some people were more observant of <em>halacha</em>(Jewish law) than my family and I. We had just had our Shabbat dinner, and the next morning we would drive to synagogue. My parents mentioned that another family we knew walked there, and then explained to me that some people don’t drive on Shabbat. “You know how we don’t use lights on Yom Kippur? Some people do that every Saturday,” my father said. This led to my learning that people keep stricter kosher than our “kosher style” of not having shellfish, pork, or mixing meat and dairy.</p>
<p>I was horrified. “You mean, we aren’t following all the rules?” I instantly felt inadequate that other people were “better” at being Jewish than I was. I had previously felt pride in my family’s Shabbat routine, and secretly felt better than my friends at school who ate cheeseburgers. Yet I now had a group of Jews whom I felt inferior to. My practices felt like a liminal space—Jewish, but not “Jewish enough.”</p>
<p>This fear, of “not being Jewish enough,” is common. When I tell people I want to go to rabbinical school, they instantly turn the conversation into a Jewish confessional: “I haven’t been to synagogue since my bat mitzvah. I eat pork. I don’t know if I believe in God. I barely remember Hebrew.” They disclose these behaviors as if expecting me to take away their “Jew card” right then and there.</p>
<p>Of course, the complexity and totality of what it means to be Jewish can’t be condensed into a litmus test of who eats pork and who doesn’t.</p>
<p>This anxiety of “am I Jewish enough” is part of a larger historical problem, one of power dynamics and exclusionary politics. I look to the long history of women not being counted in a minyan, being unable to enter the rabbinate, and receiving an unequal Jewish education. I also look at patrilineal Jews’ and converts’ struggle to be recognized by Jewish institutions.</p>
<p>The “right” or “wrong” way to be Jewish has long been a narrative controlled by those in power. Those in power have historically been the cisgendered men who interpreted law and defined what was normal and spiritually appropriate.</p>
<p>Class dynamics also determine who receives Jewish social capital. Jewish institutional knowledge requires access to Jewish resources and educational opportunities. For instance, Jewish day school tuition was too expensive for my family, but we had enough privilege to afford synagogue membership and Hebrew school fees. While I have a stronger Jewish background than others, not having the opportunity to attend Jewish day school deprived me of Hebrew proficiency and a more comprehensive understanding of Jewish text and law.</p>
<p>But: I am not any less Jewish than someone who received this education.</p>
<p>By rejecting the framework of a “right” way to be Jewish, I have allowed myself to accept that there are many valid Jewish backgrounds and lifestyles. This has allowed me to slowly overcome my sense of both feeling superior to others’ practices and shame at not being “Jewish enough.”</p>
<p>I have altered my language, asking “what is your Shabbat practice?” instead of “do you ‘keep Shabbat’?” This shift recognizes that there are ways to honor Shabbat other than a strict halachic observance. Personally, I set aside the day in whatever way feels right––some weeks this constitutes unplugging my devices, while for others it’s simply not doing schoolwork on Saturdays or setting aside a Friday night for myself. These actions all constitute a Shabbat practice because I am doing what I need to in order to separate the day.</p>
<p>This year, I broke my traditional Rosh Hashanah practice and listened to music on my phone. I did what I needed to do in order to feel present, happy, and relaxed. Although not halachic, it was an important part of how I celebrated the holiday.</p>
<p>Yet, one does not need to even have a Rosh Hashanah or Shabbat practice to be Jewish either.</p>
<p>Yes, tradition is an essential part of our faith. A connection to our ancestors keeps Judaism relevant in the face of modernization and growing secularization. By grappling with the conflict between the value that tradition gives us, and the parts of tradition that do not resonate with us, however, it is possible to celebrate the diversity of our people and to allow each person to find a version of their Judaism that feels spiritually significant.</p>
<p>When we let go of the self-conscious idea of being a “good” or “bad” Jew and accept ourselves for who we are, we are better able to truly connect to our faith. This open outlook welcomes all kinds of Jews, removing the boundaries that history has created and helping our diverse and multifaceted community create a more beautiful Judaism.</p>
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Topics:
<a href="https://jwa.org/topics/jewish-holidays" hreflang="en">Jewish Holidays</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/jewish-law" hreflang="en">Jewish Law</a>
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<mark class="hidden" data-comment-timestamp="1534974186"></mark><div class="submitted"><span class="username"><span lang="" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">Saul</span></span>9 months ago</div>
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<div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>Amen.</p>
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<mark class="hidden" data-comment-timestamp="1534952102"></mark><div class="submitted"><span class="username"><span lang="" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">Greg Marcus</span></span>9 months ago</div>
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<div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>Thank you Rachel. I call this phenomina "Jew Shame" I felt it myself for many years. Thanks so much for shining a light and helping to make it safe for people to feel Jewishly enough just the way they are.</p>
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</section>Tue, 21 Aug 2018 13:51:44 +0000rking24845 at https://jwa.orgCo-Parenting Hannukah-Style at Christmas: A Mom’s Eye Viewhttps://jwa.org/blog/co-parenting-hannukah-style-at-christmas-mom-s-eye-view
<span>Co-Parenting Hannukah-Style at Christmas: A Mom’s Eye View</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/blog/author/jenna-zark" hreflang="und"> Jenna Zark </a><span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/tmetal" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">tmetal</span></span>
<span>Thu, 12/10/2015 - 10:11</span>
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<div class="field field-name-field-image field-type-image field-label-hidden field-item"> <a href="https://jwa.org/media/vproud-tv-graphic"><img src="https://jwa.org/themes/jwawesome/images/lazy.gif" width="300" height="169" alt="VProud TV Graphic " title="VProud TV Graphic " data-src="//d3q94h10rclvvz.cloudfront.net/sites/default/files/styles/scale_width_300px/public/mediaobjects/screen_shot_2015-12-10_at_10.12.48_am.png?itok=aEiJdVaO" class="b-lazy" typeof="foaf:Image" /></a>
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<div class="field field-name-field-section-text field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>My first <a href="http://www.jewfaq.org/holiday7.htm">Hanukkah</a> as a single mom was lucky. My play <a href="http://www.dramatists.com/cgi-bin/db/single.asp?key=831"><em>A Body of Water</em></a> was in rehearsal for its New York debut and I was traveling back and forth from Minnesota. I celebrated some nights with my son Josh at home in St. Paul and traveled to New York for others while Josh stayed with his dad. So instead of brooding about being a single mother on nights I would have been alone, I was preoccupied by rehearsals. Easy-peasy. For a while.</p>
<p>But other holidays came and went, bringing challenges, loneliness and sometimes tears. I remembered those days while watching <a href="https://vproud.tv/">VProud TV’s</a> <a href="https://vproud.tv/conversation/3673/co-parenting-through-the-holidays-is-not-easy-here-are-tried-and-tested-tips-that-work"><em>Guide to Coparenting During the Holidays</em></a>. I found it through a friend while searching for resources on a column for my own blog; and what I love is they ask real people to share real experiences about real life.</p>
<p>Karen Cahn, who narrates the video, notes that the first year “sucks” – but then offers true-to-life tips for how it can be better. "Your goal should always be that the happiness and well being of your kids comes first, no matter what,” Cahn says. “Your kids just want their parents to get along and for there to be good vibes…so make that your goal. It's hard as hell but you can do it. Be Bruce and Demi."</p>
<p>Cahn also emphasizes the necessity of compromise—which really landed on my doorstep after the divorce, when I remarried. She talks about being Jewish and marrying someone who isn’t—and how important it is to introduce new traditions gradually. I wish I’d had this video years ago and been able to take her advice.</p>
<p>My son Josh was five when his stepdad Pete and I got married, and Pete’s family was expecting us for Christmas at their cabin in Two Harbors, MN. Josh’s father, meanwhile, was a <a href="http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-cantor/">cantor</a> at a local synagogue in St. Paul, and became quite worried about his son celebrating Christmas. Though I didn’t say so, I worried a bit myself.</p>
<p>It’s not easy to hold on to your heritage if you’re not Christian on Christmas, but it’s even harder when one parent is part of the Jewish clergy. Unfortunately, during the early years of our divorce, Josh’s dad and I were not good at figuring things out together or talking with each other. Compromise came after hard-fought battles and was usually just a result of exhaustion.</p>
<p>In the end, I got my new husband to agree that we would celebrate Christmas at his parents’ home but not bring a tree into ours. I told Josh we were sharing Pete’s family’s holiday but that it wasn’t <em>our</em> holiday; and that we would share our Hanukkah with them.</p>
<p>That was the good part. The bad part was that Pete bought Josh eight presents for each night of Hanukkah and then Pete’s parents bought him a huge pile of Christmas presents, and I wanted Josh to be happy about his new family so I let it go on, year after year, and my son began to expect a ridiculous amount of presents at holiday time.</p>
<p>I’m sure you know that over-gifting can become quite the problem, because presents should not be what either holiday is about. That kind of mistake took a lot of years of walking back, by asking for fewer presents and changing some of the purchased presents to ones we made.</p>
<p>But other tips the video shared resonated, since I think I (mostly) managed to achieve them.</p>
<p>· You are the adult: don’t make your kid make decisions about who to spend time with on the holidays</p>
<p>· Don’t’ worry about the date because the time you spend together is more important than any actual day</p>
<p>· Take advantage of alone time (that was really a fun one to figure out)</p>
<p>· Be open to transforming traditions (like teaching your Christian cousins how to play dreidel after a Christmas dinner)</p>
<p>I also appreciated two things people in the video said because I lived them:</p>
<p>“The end of a marriage doesn’t have to be the end of a family,” says Mandy Dawson.</p>
<p> “Remember: you’re divorcing yourself from your own anger and bitterness,” says Karen Cahn.</p>
<p>Both women are right on the money, but it’s hard to know how right until you’ve gone through your own divorce. I worked through many of my own difficult feelings by writing a novel for middle-graders called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Beat-Rubys-Street-Jenna-Zark-ebook/dp/B016VSBYQS/ref=la_B00CQBNSJQ_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1449457953&sr=1-1"><em>The Beat on Ruby’s Street</em></a>, about a young girl whose parents end up separating in 1958. While writing it, I realized the idea of divorcing yourself from negative feelings isn’t one that can happen overnight. But it can happen.</p>
<p>In the end I think the key to getting on with life, holidays, and co-parenting is, as the video points out, compromise. But it’s also about being willing to own your feelings and get past them—and about sharing them with other parents, which is why I wish V-Proud had been around for me when my son was little. On the other hand, I’m glad it’s here now—for us all.</p>
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<div class="more-on-topics">
Topics:
<a href="https://jwa.org/topics/children" hreflang="en">Children</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/jewish-holidays" hreflang="en">Jewish Holidays</a>
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</section>Thu, 10 Dec 2015 15:11:36 +0000tmetal21441 at https://jwa.orgNima Adlerblumhttps://jwa.org/people/adlerblum-nima
<span>Nima Adlerblum</span>
<div class="field field-name-field-name-givenname field-type-string field-label-hidden field-item">Nima</div>
<span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/mcantor-stone" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">mcantor-stone</span></span>
<span>Tue, 06/10/2014 - 19:02</span>
<div class="field field-name-field-name-surname field-type-string field-label-hidden field-item">Adlerblum</div>
<div class="field field-name-field-section field-type-entity-reference-revisions field-label-hidden field-items">
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<div class="field field-name-field-section-text field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p><span>Nima Adlerblum’s scholarship and Zionist activism helped shape worldwide perspectives about the land where she was born.</span> Raised in Jerusalem, Adlerblum studied in Paris at the Alliance Israelite Francaise before earning her PhD at Columbia University with a thesis arguing that Jewish philosophy had to be understood on its own terms instead of through the lens of Greek or medieval Christian philosophy. She went on to write a book on Jewish holidays and contribute heavily to the Jewish Heritage series edited by Leo Jung, which created a foundation for scholarship about Orthodox Judaism and rabbinic literature. Adlerblum also founded Hadassah’s national cultural and educational program and served as its national and cultural chair from 1922–1935. According to family stories, she flew to Rome during the Holocaust to secure the release of 250 Jewish refugees. Her outlook on life is best captured in her posthumous <i>Memoirs of Childhood: An Approach to Jewish Philosophy</i>, where she interwove philosophy with an account of her experiences growing up in an environment steeped in ethics, philosophy and religion, offering this as an ideal for Jewish and Zionist life.</p>
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</div>
<div class="field field-name-field-biomainimage field-type-entity-reference field-label-hidden field-items">
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<div class="field field-name-field-image field-type-image field-label-hidden field-item"> <a href="https://jwa.org/media/nima-adlerblum-cover"><img src="https://jwa.org/themes/jwawesome/images/lazy.gif" width="300" height="451" alt="Nima Adlerblum's Book Memoirs of Childhood " title="Nima Adlerblum's Book Memoirs of Childhood " data-src="//d3q94h10rclvvz.cloudfront.net/sites/default/files/styles/scale_width_300px/public/mediaobjects/nima_adlerblum_cover.jpg?itok=C64IflWk" class="b-lazy" typeof="foaf:Image" /></a>
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<div class="caption">
<div class="field field-name-field-caption field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>Cover of Nima Adlerblum's book, published after her death. She was a writer, educator, and Zionist activist in New York and Jerusalem.</p>
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<div class="more-on-topics">
Topics:
<a href="https://jwa.org/topics/jewish-holidays" hreflang="en">Jewish Holidays</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/zionism" hreflang="en">Zionism</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/philosophy" hreflang="en">Philosophy</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/spirituality-and-religious-life" hreflang="en">Spirituality and Religious Life</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/judaism-orthodox" hreflang="en">Judaism-Orthodox</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/memoirs" hreflang="en">Memoirs</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/non-fiction" hreflang="en">Non-Fiction</a>
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<div class="field field-name-field-birthplace field-type-address field-label-above">
<div class="field-label">Birthplace</div>
<div class="field-item"><p class="address" translate="no"><span class="locality">Jerusalem</span><br /><span class="country">Israel</span></p></div>
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<div class="field field-name-field-birthdate field-type-datetime field-label-hidden field-item"><time datetime="1881-08-04T12:00:00Z">August 4, 1881</time></div>
<div class="field field-name-field-deathdate field-type-datetime field-label-hidden field-item"><time datetime="1974-08-25T12:00:00Z">August 25, 1974</time></div>
<div class="field-wrapper">
<div class="field-label">Occupations</div>
<a href="https://jwa.org/taxonomy/term/20971" hreflang="en">Writer</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/taxonomy/term/21663" hreflang="en">Founder</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/taxonomy/term/21665" hreflang="en">Educator</a>
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</section>Tue, 10 Jun 2014 23:02:21 +0000mcantor-stone18987 at https://jwa.orgMiriam and the Passover Storyhttps://jwa.org/blog/miriam-and-the-passover-story
<span>Miriam and the Passover Story</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/blog/author/leah-berkenwald" hreflang="und"> Leah Berkenwald </a><span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/lberkenwald" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">lberkenwald</span></span>
<span>Mon, 04/04/2011 - 10:34</span>
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<div class="field field-name-field-image field-type-image field-label-hidden field-item"> <a href="https://jwa.org/media/miriam-in-songs-of-joy"><img src="https://jwa.org/themes/jwawesome/images/lazy.gif" width="300" height="227" alt=""The Songs of Joy," by James Jacques Joseph Tissot" title=""The Songs of Joy," by James Jacques Joseph Tissot" data-src="//d3q94h10rclvvz.cloudfront.net/sites/default/files/styles/scale_width_300px/public/mediaobjects/tissot_the_songs_of_joy.jpg?itok=psYniS21" class="b-lazy" typeof="foaf:Image" /></a>
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<div class="caption">
<div class="field field-name-field-caption field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><em>The Songs of Joy</em>, c. 1896-1902, by James Jacques Joseph Tissot (French, 1836-1902).
<br />Courtesy of the Jewish Museum, New York.
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<div class="field field-name-field-section-text field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that Passover is my favorite holiday. It's special for a number of reasons (when else are we commanded to drink four cups of wine?) but two reasons in particular stand out.</p>
<p>The first is that the story of the Exodus features the leadership of <a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/miriam-bible">Miriam</a>, perhaps the only woman in the bible who is not described as somebody's wife or mother. Neither Miriam nor her brother Moses are mentioned in the traditional Haggadah, but their roles in the Passover story are integral and intertwined. Baby Moses would not have surived without the cleverness of his older sister, but this does not mean she played a "supporting role." Miriam made her own history leading the Israelites across the Red Sea and afterwards, while wandering in the desert, when she stood up for what she believed in. </p>
<p>The second reason Passover is so special to me is the way the Jewish community has taken the seder and made it adaptable. It is now common practice to spend some time searching the web for new readings, songs, and activities to incorporate into your seder. The Passover seder has become "remixable," allowing each of us to make it meaningful in our own way. As a result, there are a number of ways to remix your seder to include and celebrate women's voices.</p>
<p>Not too long ago, I made a video about the apocryphal <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwUDWfGpr1g">Judith and her role in the Hanukkah story</a>. Today, I share a new video about Miriam and her role in the Passover story, her legacy as a leader and inspiration, and the contemporary Jewish women who follow in her footsteps. </p>
<p><iframe frameborder="0" height="349" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ZnmqnPstSyw?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></p>
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Topics:
<a href="https://jwa.org/topics/jewish-holidays" hreflang="en">Jewish Holidays</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/bible" hreflang="en">Bible</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/spirituality-and-religious-life" hreflang="en">Spirituality and Religious Life</a>
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<mark class="hidden" data-comment-timestamp="1486499894"></mark><div class="submitted"><span class="username"><span lang="" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">Marsha</span></span>6 years ago</div>
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<div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>The story of Miriam and her bravery and leadership is inspiring to all Jewish women.......</p>
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</section>Mon, 04 Apr 2011 14:34:02 +0000lberkenwald14378 at https://jwa.orgTu B'Av and the Question of Gendered Ritualshttps://jwa.org/blog/tu-bav-gendered-rituals
<span>Tu B'Av and the Question of Gendered Rituals</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/blog/author/leora-jackson" hreflang="und"> Leora Jackson </a><span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/lberkenwald" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">lberkenwald</span></span>
<span>Tue, 07/27/2010 - 16:53</span>
<div class="field field-name-field-section field-type-entity-reference-revisions field-label-hidden field-items">
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<div class="field field-name-field-section-text field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>Yesterday marked Tu B’Av, the 15th day of the month of Av, a minor Jewish holiday that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tu_B%27Av">Wikipedia</a> tells me has become a Jewish equivalent to Valentine’s Day, in that it is an auspicious day for holding weddings and perhaps meeting a romantic partner. The part about weddings makes sense: Tu B’Av comes only 6 after the fast day of Tisha B’Av, and many Jews avoid holding weddings during either the three weeks or the nine days leading up to the fast, since they are considered mournful times. So, we’ve had a dearth of weddings in our community, Tisha B’Av passes, and after so much sadness, a wedding is something to look forward to. But meeting a partner on Tu B’Av? Where is the logic in that?</p>
<p>The Talmud tells us that on the 15th of Av, the young women of Israel would go out dressed in borrowed white dresses and dance in the vineyards. There is meaning in the borrowed dresses: we are told that the women borrowed from one another so as not to embarrass those who did not have a dress. The unmarried men would go to the fields and gaze at them, ostensibly to choose a woman to marry.</p>
<p>Today, nobody dresses in white and goes out to the fields to dance on Tu B’Av – although the ritual is eerily reminiscent of novels I used to read about London debutantes making their entrance into society in the Victorian era. Secular communities in Israel are the ones most likely to celebrate the day, and present day religious practices specific to Tu B’Av are limited to minor liturgical changes. However, the premise of beautiful women presented to men to be chosen as matches still holds in Jewish and non-Jewish communities.</p>
<p>Farideh Goldin tells a story in her memoir, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wedding-Song-Memoirs-Iranian-Jewish/dp/1584654449"><i>Wedding Song</i></a>, about how the older women in the Jewish community of Shiraz tried to ensure that young women were properly seated in the women’s section of the synagogue so as to afford single men the best view. Jewish online dating sites, like <a href="http://www.jdate.com">JDate</a> allow us to build profiles that show off our best qualities (although JDate is arguably more egalitarian and less heteronormative than a lot of non-digital matchmaking). And, on a more secular note, North American women on average tend to spend more time and feel more pressure to ‘look good’ for those around us, which usually means dressing attractively according to male heterosexual preferences.</p>
<p>So is Tu B’Av bad for women, given the cultural scripts it reinforces? I’m not willing to write it off quite yet: I like the ancient ritual’s attempt to diminish the importance of material wealth through borrowed dresses. Another JWA blogger has also <a href="https://jwa.org/blog/tu-bav">noted the potential for a day like Tu B’Av</a> to be used to promote sex-positive aspects of Judaism. Finally, dressing up to feel good about one’s self and one’s body isn’t an inherently bad thing.</p>
<p>But I think I feel the same kind of ambivalence towards Tu B’Av as I do towards many gendered Jewish rituals: I wish they were feminist all on their own, instead of being things that women had to reclaim or re-read for feminist meaning. On the other hand, I’m glad that there is a vibrant Jewish community willing to participate in such reclamations and re-readings.</p>
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<div class="more-on-topics">
Topics:
<a href="https://jwa.org/topics/jewish-holidays" hreflang="en">Jewish Holidays</a>, <a href="https://jwa.org/topics/ritual" hreflang="en">Ritual</a>
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</section>Tue, 27 Jul 2010 20:53:59 +0000lberkenwald14152 at https://jwa.orgTurkey: Ottoman and Post Ottomanhttps://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/turkey-ottoman-and-post-ottoman
<span>Turkey: Ottoman and Post Ottoman</span>
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden field-item">
<p>
In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, far-reaching changes took place in the Ottoman Empire in the political, social and geopolitical spheres. From the late nineteenth century until 1923, Turkey was frequently at war. The Treaty of Lausanne (1923) established the borders of the Turkish nation-state, with a population that was ninety-six percent Muslim. In the wake of the Tanzimat reforms, the “Young Turks” rebellion (1908), geopolitical shifts and the establishment of the Republic, the Turkish state imposed a process of “Turkification” on its residents.
</p>
<p>
In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the Jews of Turkey constituted the largest Jewish community in the Ottoman Empire, centered primarily around Istanbul and Izmir. After 1923 the Jews gathered in these cities, effectively eliminating the smaller communities in Western Anatolia and Romelia. Concurrently, a massive migration to Europe and the Americas took place. In the 1930s, out of a total Turkish population of fifteen million, 150,000–200,000 were Jews. Between 1927 and 1938 the number of Jews plummeted to seventy thousand. At the end of the twentieth century, the Jewish community of Turkey numbered about twenty thousand people.
</p>
<h3>
The Women’s Domain
</h3>
<p>
One of the central features in the lives of Jewish, Christian and Muslim women was the separation between men and women. This separation had an impact on numerous aspects of everyday life, among them the division of labor between the genders, the restriction of women to the home, and the exterior architecture and interior design of the living space. The consignment of the Jewish woman to the home derives not only from the Jewish tradition which holds that “all the honor of the king’s daughter is within” (Psalms 45:14), but also from the dual influence of Muslim society and Sephardic custom.
</p>
<p>
The public space, which included the streets, the marketplaces, the port and its piers, the coffee houses and the synagogue, was considered the masculine domain. The private space, associated with the women, was limited to the home, the courtyard, the communal oven, the well, the <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Ritual bath</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">mikveh</span></span></i> (ritual bath) and the women’s section and courtyard of the synagogue. Neither married nor single women ventured out into the street alone; they emerged only in groups, with a defined destination for their visits (<i>vijitas</i>)—either other homes or the <i>mikveh</i>. Separation was also the rule with respect to burial and <i>shiva </i>(the one-week<i> </i>mourning period); women did not attend funerals, instead visiting the cemetery in groups, primarily on <i>rosh </i><i><u>h</u></i><i>odesh</i> (the festival of the new month).
</p>
<p>
Since the entry of women into the public space placed their modesty at risk, a woman’s attire served as a protective barrier outside the home while at the same time defining her nationality and her social and economic status. Rich and poor women alike wore the same clothing, but there was a difference in the quality of the workmanship, the richness of the fabric and the accompanying jewelry. The presence or absence of the latter testified to the woman’s marital status. Jewish women, like their Muslim and Christian sisters, went out into the street wrapped from head to toe in a cloak of sorts (<i>ferace</i>) topped with a veil (<i>marama</i>). As a result of European influences in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Western clothing “infiltrated” all levels of society, although few Muslim women abandoned the veil.
</p>
<p>
Language represented an additional barrier that relegated women to the private space and prevented them from playing a role in the public domain. Until the mid–1950s, -Spanish (Djidio, in Ladino) was the primary spoken language of the Jews. While most of the men knew how to speak Turkish, chiefly as a result of work and business connections, and some Hebrew, acquired as part of their religious studies, the language of women’s discourse was Ladino. Lack of knowledge of the official languages did not hinder the women’s communication with others, however, since all of their neighbors (including the non-Jews) spoke and understood Ladino. The Jews lived together in neighborhoods where they constituted the majority. Their homes, which opened onto shared courtyards, were simple dwellings referred to by the locals as <i>yahudihane</i> (in Turkish) and by the Jews as <i>cortijo</i>, or “cottage.” The entrance to the courtyard was guarded by a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands and locked with a vertical iron bolt. An opening between the courtyards allowed the women to move from one enclosure to another without exiting into the street.
</p>
<p>
The interior of the home was the woman’s domain, as reflected in the custom of providing a dowry (<i>ashugar</i>, in Ladino) to the woman upon her marriage. The bride brought with her the furnishings and interior fixtures of the bed chamber (<i>cama armada</i>), the household and kitchen utensils, curtains and tablecloths, in addition to clothing, jewels and money. The custom of dowry indicates that the woman and her family expected her to have a home in which to place these objects.
</p>
<h3>
Women’s Sense of Time
</h3>
<p>
The majority of the women were illiterate. Since they could not read newspapers and were not taught to read the yearly calendar that formed the basis of Jewish life, the women had their own unique sense of time and place. The opening of special schools for girls, compulsory education instituted by the Turkish authorities, and the penetration of radio, gramophones and films, all influenced the women and brought the wider world to their doorstep. In other words, the women were aware of changes in time and space, but these did not lead to a synchronization between the broader world of Turkey and beyond, on the one hand, and their own sense of time, on the other. It was essentially the latter that continued to serve the needs of the family.
</p>
<p>
From the way in which Jewish women allocated their time, it is apparent that they were preoccupied with household tasks. Their attention, their time, their feelings were devoted to the home and family, in particular to cooking and cleaning, the means through which the woman made her unique mark on her home. A clean home testified to the character of the housewife, who thereby earned the appreciation of the household, the family and the neighbors. Cleaning and cooking took up most of her time, dictating her daily schedule and the dishes that she prepared. A special day was set aside for laundry. The tasks of running the household were numerous and the prevailing attitude was that girls did not need to study. What they required was guidance, warmth and love, which their mothers bestowed in abundance. Consequently, young girls remained in the home to oversee the smaller children and to help clean house.
</p>
<h3>
The Kitchen
</h3>
<p>
Food was prepared and served in accordance with the season, the festivals and the Jewish dietary laws. The names and flavors of the dishes were reminiscent of the community’s origins in Spain and Portugal (prior to the Expulsions of 1492 and 1497): <i>pan de españa</i>, <i>tortas</i>, <i>fila-dona</i>, <i>frojalda</i> and <i>kezada</i>, to name a few. Foods that were prepared quickly and were not the product of hours of work were evidence of a lazy, gluttonous housewife. Special dishes were prepared for the Sabbath and holidays. In the period preceding <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">A seven-day festival to commemorate the Exodus from Egypt (eight days outside Israel) beginning on the 15<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; font-size: 8pt; vertical-align: top">th</span> day of the Hebrew month of Nissan. Also called the "Festival of Ma<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">zz</span>ot"; the "Festival of Spring"; <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">Pesa</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span>.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Passover</span></span>, the women rarely left the home, due mainly to the work of housecleaning and preparing the special festive meals.
</p>
<p>
Food preparation and cooking were done individually. In contrast to laundry day, which was a social event, the peeling of vegetables and preparation of dough were carried out within the privacy of the home. Young girls learned how to cook in their own home, from their mother. A girl who did not know how to cook and was unschooled in the tasks of homemaking brought shame not only upon herself and her husband but on her mother and family and even harmed the marital prospects of her sisters, since the deeds of the daughter reflected on the mother, who had not succeeded in preparing her daughter to perform household chores. Women prepared the food, but endeavored to avoid eating in public and ate slowly and in small portions. A woman who never complained, did not crave luxuries, was frugal, healthy and did laundry earned the title <i>nikuchira,</i> meaning a good housewife who runs her home properly.
</p>
<p>
Through her delicacies and baked goods, in which she invested hours of toil and devotion, the wife and mother was able to create a sense of uniqueness. Women sent homemade foods to newlywed couples during the seven days of post-wedding festivities, or, by contrast, to relatives and friends whose family member had passed away. Women did not take part in political activity in the community, but did participate in communal life through the distribution of food. Affluent women provided food to soup kitchens, while poorer women donated breast milk to orphaned infants whose mothers had died in childbirth or had insufficient milk. They shared their meager bread with people poorer than themselves, with the birds, the dogs and the street cats, as part of the network of charity and compassion that characterizes women.
</p>
<h3>
Healing Women
</h3>
<p>
Virtually every ailment was attributed to “the evil eye” or to fear. Until the late nineteenth–early twentieth century, the custom of <i>indulco</i> (ritual confinement) was widespread throughout the Ottoman Empire. The treatment ritual was carried out by a woman with special healing powers who was known for her ability to exorcise demons, generally those that had entered a woman. Women who were trained in this practice were sought out due to a shortage of doctors, lack of money, concerns of modesty and the belief that the ancient treatment was effective. An examination of the substances used by the healer in the ritual shows that these were foodstuffs commonly found in any Sephardic Jewish woman’s kitchen throughout the Mediterranean Basin: water, rose water, honey, salt and eggs. In the early twentieth century, this custom faded into obscurity, largely due to the ban imposed by the rabbis, the establishment of hospitals, and the system of public health care. Jewish women played a role in this communal health network through women’s societies that collected donations for hospitals, in addition to serving as nurses, attendants and auxiliary personnel.
</p>
<h3>
Marriage
</h3>
<p>
Until the late nineteenth century it was customary in Turkey to marry at an early age, with the grooms generally being seventeen to eighteen years old and the brides fourteen to fifteen. The reasons for marrying young included the high mortality rate and short life expectancy (parents wished to see their children settled, meaning that they had produced offspring and the family line had not been extinguished); the fear that the girl would be seduced and bring shame upon her family; and the fear of conversion and intermarriage to a Muslim or Christian. However, the practice of marrying girls off at a young age sometimes led to tragic results. The first year of marriage carried the highest incidence of mortality for women and newborns since the young girls had not yet reached physical and sexual maturity due to malnutrition, poor hygiene and family pressure to produce offspring early in the marriage.
</p>
<p>
There was generally a set hierarchy within the family: the oldest daughter married first, followed by the remaining sisters in descending order of age. An important prerequisite for marriageability, apart from obedience, modesty, a good reputation and virginity, was the dowry (<i>dota y ashugar</i>, in Ladino). Without a dowry, there was no marriage. Haim Nahoum, the chief rabbi of Turkey from 1892 to 1923, requested a loan to marry off his sister (“one of my sisters, who became engaged two years ago, is forced to postpone her wedding until the Messiah comes [i.e., indefinitely] for want of 1,000 francs, which she promised to provide in legal tender to her betrothed”).
</p>
<p>
In addition to currency, the bride brought to the marriage her own apparel and the furnishings for the bedchamber. In the twentieth century new items made their way into the traditional dowry: girls who had studied at one of the foreign schools or at the school of the Alliance Israélite Universelle added books in French and Italian as well as training in bookkeeping, administration and a musical instrument. An additional article was the sewing machine, which was not only a symbol of modesty and of being tied to the home but also a manufacturing tool: the woman could now work at home, as a subcontractor to sewing workshops. The preoccupation with the dowry as an integral part of marriage was a cause for concern among the community leaders; in order to reduce the social pressure and the moral problems liable to be caused by the surplus of single young women, the community set up a “dowry fund” aimed at providing dowries to orphaned and impoverished young girls. Money for the fund came from inheritance taxes, levies imposed on dowries and generous donations.
</p>
<p>
Most of the matches took place within the family (to cousins or other relatives) and were determined by the parents. Wealthy families, such as the Camondos or the Agimans, married within the family or with other wealthy, high-born urban families.
</p>
<p>
The modern education in the Alliance schools and the inclusion of the girls in youth movements and communal activities expanded the selection available to young men and women and narrowed the age gap between couples. Despite the element of personal choice, however, and largely because this was a class-based society, the encounters were not spontaneous and the choice of spouse did not extend beyond one’s own social group.
</p>
<p>
Wedding festivities, which in the past had lasted for two weeks, were now shortened, mainly for economic reasons. In the nineteenth century wedding ceremonies and festivities took place separately for men and women, but in the twentieth century these celebrations became mixed.
</p>
<p>
The wedding ceremony comprised several elements. The personal and feminine component was represented by the bride. Though the bride was not an active participant at any stage of the wedding—she was chosen, dressed, led and “acquired” with a wedding ring or other valuable— the wedding ceremony was nevertheless the most significant event of her life and the culmination of a process toward which she had been guided since childhood, that of becoming a wife and mother. The groom’s obligations toward his bride were anchored in the <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Marriage document (in Aramaic) dictating husband's personal and financial obligations to his wife.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">ketubbah</span></span></i> (marriage contract), which served as a legal document protecting the rights and property of the woman.
</p>
<p>
The one portion of the wedding festivities in which women alone took part was the day of the bride’s immersion in the ritual bath (<i>el dia del banio</i>, in Ladino). Each part of the ceremony had a special significance. The pristine waters of the spring symbolized the purity of the bride. Pieces of sugar were added to the water to ensure a sweet life. The immersion was not an intimate event but a ceremony attended by all the women of the family. The bride was perfumed with rose water and each of those present helped to dress her. The ceremony was accompanied by traditional songs praising the bride’s beauty, innocence, modesty and her future as a married woman. In Izmir it was customary to break a cake-ring (<i>kezada</i>) over the head of the bride.
</p>
<p>
The bride’s procession from her home to that of the groom was not a private event of two families joining together in marriage. The entire assemblage of family members and guests took part in the rejoicing, accompanying the bride with music and song. The ceremonial escorting of the bride to the home of the groom was similar to the festivities surrounding the dedication of a new <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Torah she-bi-khetav</span>: Lit. "the written Torah." The Bible; the Pentateuch; <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Tanakh </span>(the Pentateuch, Prophets and Hagiographia)</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Torah</span></span> scroll for the synagogue and the wedding songs were mixed with hymns praising God’s Torah and the Land of Israel, climaxing with the breaking of the goblet by the groom in remembrance of the Temple’s destruction. The custom of publicly escorting the bride began to die out early in the twentieth century, primarily due to the processes of Westernization and “Turkification” under the Republic.
</p>
<p>
After the wedding the newly married couple moved into the house of the groom’s parents. Living together with the mother of the groom was at times problematic. The bride brought with her opinions, ideas and habits learned in her own mother’s home that did not always conform to the practices in the home of her mother-in-law. The bride and her mother-in-law vied for the use of the oven and the sink, not to mention the approval of the son/husband. Often, the bride, the mother-in-law and the sisters-in-law (the sisters of the groom, or other daughters-in-law living under the same roof) had trouble getting along, turning life in the home into a series of quarrels and squabbles that sometimes required the groom to take a stand and even led to divorce.
</p>
<p>
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the changes in the traditional marriage customs were compounded by other factors: migration, conscription, wars in the Ottoman Empire and the Family and Matrimonial Law enacted in 1925. The new law, inspired by similar legislation in Switzerland, made civil marriage mandatory, although a religious ceremony was still permitted.
</p>
<p>
The period of the woman’s pregnancy was a time of rejoicing mixed with fear. During the fifth month of pregnancy, a diaper-preparation ceremony (<i>cortar fashdura</i>) took place, attended by the women of the family and female friends and neighbors. The birth of a daughter, unlike that of a son, was met with disappointment, principally due to the burden of providing a dowry.
</p>
<p>
When a daughter was born, a <i>fadamiento</i> or <i>siete candelas</i> ceremony was held (corresponding to the circumcision ceremony), at which the baby girl was given a name. The ceremony was usually held in the home or at the synagogue, with the infant dressed in clothing embroidered with gold and silver. Each of those present lit a candle and blessed the newborn girl with a life of joy and prosperity.
</p>
<p>
The names of the women bear witness to the changes in time and space, as well as the cultural and social transformations, which took place over the course of generations. Until the late nineteenth century, women were as a rule given ancient Hebrew names such as Sarah, Esther or Rachel, or names originating from the Iberian Peninsula, including Oro (gold, in Ladino), Estreya (star), Alegre (happiness), Amada (beloved), Bolisa (housewife), Joya (jewel), Vida (life), Luna (moon), Sol (sun) and Regina (queen). It is no coincidence that girls were given names that expressed beauty and sweetness; these names conformed to the expectations of beauty and modesty that were placed on women. All of the names reflected the longing for, and promise of, a good life, but names such as Merkada (acquired, in Ladino), <u>H</u>aya (life), and Bohora (firstborn) carried an additional meaning. Merkado/Merkada was not a name bestowed on a child at birth but instead was given to a man or woman in danger of dying. To confound the Angel of Death, the person was symbolically “sold” to a family member. Other names that were particularly popular were Dudun and Hanum. The name Dudun was given when the baby’s mother and paternal grandmother had the same names. Hanum is a corruption of the Turkish word <i>hanim</i>, meaning lady or mistress. Over the centuries the Jews assimilated into the surrounding community and took on local names, but these still differed from the first names customary among the Muslims. One example is the name Sultana, which corresponds to the Hebrew name Malka (queen) and to Reina and Regina in the Spanish; despite its Turkish origins, Muslim women did not use this name. With the infusion of the French language and culture in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, new names were added: Mazalto(v) became Fortune, Gracia became Germaine and Regina became Regine, to mention a few. In the 1950s, the desire to become part of Turkish society also had an impact on patterns of baby-naming and girls were given Turkish names.
</p>
<h3>
Honor
</h3>
<p>
The spectrum of values reflected in the concept of “honor,” in the sense of generosity, honesty, seriousness, loyalty to friends and family and defense of the weak (i.e., women and children), relates to men. The honor of women, by contrast, is expressed through their modesty, particularly in the sexual realm. The woman was expected to sublimate her sexuality, the appropriate means of entry to the community at large lying in the number of offspring—preferably male—that she brought into the world. Women learned to keep silent and to accept their fate. A unique form of expression for women was poetry, through which they gave voice to their emotional state, to their hopes and dreams. The ancient <i>romansas</i> (narrative ballads) originating in the Iberian Peninsula express the problem of cultural identity, or more precisely, cultural alienation from the immediate time and place, in this case the Turkish state. Concurrent with the <i>romansas</i>, and inspired by Turkish folk poetry, a new poetry emerged that drew on the surrounding reality and expressed the women’s social status, their hopes and aspirations.
</p>
<h3>
Education and Schooling
</h3>
<p>
One way for women to be integrated into the communal space was via education. Since few Jewish schools existed, Jewish girls studied at schools under the auspices of the Christian mission. Fees at these private schools were high and the prevailing attitude among the men, and even more so, the mothers, was that young girls did not need to be “smart”; as a result, most of the girls were not sent to school. Young girls from affluent families studied in private schools under the patronage of the convents or with private tutors.
</p>
<p>
In the late nineteenth century, the Alliance Israélite established schools for boys and girls, with the aim of revitalizing Ottoman Jewry through education and changing the status of Jewish women in the Sephardic communities. The girls’ curriculum differed from that of the boys; in addition to French, general studies and Turkish (in Izmir, they studied Greek), the girls learned sewing and embroidery. In 1872 the Alliance decided to include women among the teaching personnel. By 1929 seventy-nine young Jewish women from Turkey had completed teachers’ college in Paris. This low figure suggests that, despite the social prestige of the profession, most families preferred the time-honored practice of marrying off their daughters.
</p>
<p>
Young girls of fourteen who excelled in their studies were sent to study at the teachers’ college in Paris, after which they taught or served as principals at girls’ schools in Tunis, Morocco, Istanbul, Haifa and elsewhere. From the reports of women principals of Alliance schools to the central office in Paris, the portrait emerges of a vigorous, independent new Sephardic Jewish woman that emerged from the Alliance schools. They considered themselves a part of both general Ottoman society and the Jewish community; yet, as representatives of the Alliance, they sometimes found themselves in conflict with the Jewish community and its leadership, who were fearful of changes in the standing of Jewish women. During the Balkan wars and World War I the women operated workshops in the schools that produced sheets and bandages for hospitals in the large cities of Edirne and Istanbul and ran a fundraising and assistance network within the Jewish and local communities.
</p>
<p>
Turkish Jewry was not unaffected by the changing times. The subject of education for women came up at conferences conducted by the Jewish community, with the general attitude being that women were equal to men and had the same right to an education; since they had different functions to fulfill, however, their education must be suited to their future role, that of being a mother. With the establishment of the Republic, sweeping changes were instituted in Turkey’s national educational system and many teachers lost their jobs.
</p>
<h3>
Leisure Time
</h3>
<p>
Women as a whole made similar use of leisure time, although there were differences between the classes. The more affluent women met in the homes of female relatives or friends. At these gatherings, they caught up on the local gossip and mothers of young men surveyed the “pool of potential brides” who came with their mothers, checking their manners and personal traits, and analyzing the economic status of the well-known families and the marriage market in general. Women and young girls knitted, embroidered and exchanged recipes. On occasion, a table would be set out, and a few of the women would launch a friendly game of cards for small sums of money, some of which was donated for charitable purposes. Women’s organizations were established whose primary goals were the organizing of donations for destitute orphans, fundraising for the dowries of poor girls and volunteering in charitable institutions of the community, such as orphanages, hospitals and soup kitchens.
</p>
<p>
Dozens of Jewish newspapers were published in Istanbul and Izmir, but there were initially none geared specifically to women (even the humor sections appearing under women’s names, such as Kadonika and others, were not necessarily written by women). In 1895, a Turkish-language magazine for women appeared for the first time in Istanbul.
</p>
<p>
The Ladino literature and folk ballads that flourished in the late nineteenth century offer evidence of a new factor that had entered the lives of Jewish women in Turkey: love. Owing to the power and influence of the family, this concept was rarely acted upon, and young girls who “strayed” in the name of love paid for it with their honor and sometimes with their lives. One form of leisure-time activity that captivated all of Turkish Jewish society, men and women alike, was the cinema. Women went out to movie theaters, accompanied by female relatives, friends and neighbors. Another popular form of entertainment was festive balls organized by the Jewish community, largely to raise funds for Jewish charitable institutions and for the Turkish army.
</p>
<h3>
Political Sphere
</h3>
<p>
The silence of women both inside and outside the home was reflected in the realm of communal activity. Women did not take part in political and social decision-making, nor did they participate in elections to the community council. While Turkish women ventured out of the home to study in state schools for training teachers and midwives, and from 1908 onwards were permitted to study at university, Jewish women did not study in these schools, principally because they did not speak Turkish. Although a number of Jewish men participated in the political changes taking place in Turkey, including the Young Turks rebellion, and Jews were elected to the Turkish parliament, the women’s voice was not heard.
</p>
<p>
The revolt of the Young Turks had an impact on the perception of the Turkish woman and the notion began to spread that women should be politically aware in order to educate their children. In other words, a new aspect was added to motherhood, that of nationalism. The entire family was enlisted in the Zionist cause, with politically aware Jewish girls and women recruited to assist the Jewish national movement, which operated openly from 1908 to 1910. Parents sent their daughters to the Girls’ Section of the Maccabi Gymnastics Club, to movement hikes and to other activities; but after political and national gatherings were banned, Jewish men and women alike vanished from the political arena. During World War I Jewish girls and women went out to work in factories, both to assist in the war effort and as a means of supporting themselves in the wake of the conscription of the men. Late in World War I, a group sponsored by the Joint Distribution Committee of American Funds for the Relief of Jewish War Sufferers (later known as the JDC, or the Joint), in conjunction with B’nai B’rith, distributed six thousand food parcels daily to Jewish women whose husbands were missing in action, war orphans (1,500 in number), refugees and other needy Jews.
</p>
<p>
As a result of the ban on activities of political organizations not affiliated with the state, there is virtually no information on public activities of the women’s Zionist organizations, although there is evidence, chiefly from oral testimonies, that young girls took part, together with young men, in clandestine Zionist groups. Despite the fact that women did not participate in politics, Jewish women served as the pretext for a slur campaign maligning the patriotism of Turkish Jewry. In addition to the claim that the Jews ate different food and spoke a different language, and that their loyalty to the Turkish state was suspect, the question was raised of why Jewish women did not marry Muslims. The campaign reached its climax with the Aliza Niego affair, in which a young Jewish girl was murdered by a married Muslim suitor, his father and grandfather while walking along an Istanbul street with her sister. The mass funeral that followed offered a ready excuse for nationalist elements to attack the Jews, claiming that the gathering was a demonstration against the Turkish Republic and a disturbance of the peace. The prosecutor in the case later referred to Aliza Niego as a “daughter of Zion,” noting that the Jews bore the coffin of the deceased as if she symbolized Turkish Jewry in its entirety.
</p>
<p>
In 1934 men and women above the age of twenty-two were granted the right to vote in parliamentary elections and to stand as candidates. Jewish women entered the political scene at a slower pace than their Turkish counterparts, not because of a lack of skills but because all the minorities—among them, Jews in general and Jewish women in particular—were not (and did not always wish to be) integrated into the Turkish national space. Those young Jewish girls who were politically aware—largely as a result of antisemitism and the masses of refugees who streamed from occupied Europe during World War II—secretly dreamed of <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The Land of Israel</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Ere<u>z</u> Israel</span></span>, some even taking part in clandestine activities of the Ne’emanei Zion and He-<u>H</u>alutz associations operating in Izmir and Istanbul and the Betar movement in Edirne. The young girls who participated in the activities of the Zionist movement did not breach the accepted frameworks, but acted with the blessing and approval of their families. “Young girls scarcely take part in the prohibited activities of the He-<u>H</u>alutz movement, and this is because, despite all the rights granted them under the law, they cannot walk around by themselves at night. And this does not stem solely from the conservatism of the parents; rather, there is a genuine danger, because they could be snatched from a street corner and the matter could end in tragedy. Turkish women in general are not seen on the streets. One sees only Jewish and Greek women.” (Central Zionist Archives, S25/6308, June 29, 1946)
</p>
<p>
Strict separation was maintained between girls and boys in all the groups. Young women served as group leaders for the girls and were involved in community life, tutoring pupils, helping at orphanages, teaching Hebrew, putting on plays and founding a choir. During World War II they assisted Jewish refugees from Europe who had fled to Turkey and took part in the smuggling of Jews to Palestine. The liaison with the “border crossers” in the eastern city of Gaziantep was a woman known as the Night Seamstress. World War II, in particular the activities of the Rescue Committee and the Zionist emissaries from Palestine based in Constantinople, led to a certain shift in the political attitudes of both the young girls and their parents, which expressed itself in the immigration of young people to Palestine. Young girls who in Turkey had not ventured out of their doors for fear of harassment were sent to <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">A voluntary collective community, mainly agricultural, in which there is no private wealth and which is responsible for all the needs of its members and their families.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">kibbutzim</span></span> in Palestine at the age of fourteen or fifteen as part of Aliyyat ha-No’ar (Youth <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "ascent." A "calling up" to the Torah during its reading in the synagogue.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Aliyah</span></span>).
</p>
<h3>
Emigration
</h3>
<p>
For centuries, widows had immigrated to <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The Land of Israel</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Ere<u>z</u> Israel</span></span> to live out their final days there and be buried in its soil. They were supported by their sons who remained behind in the city of their birth and sent them a yearly stipend known as <i>añada</i>. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries a wave of emigration began, primarily to France and the Americas, due mainly to political instability, the economic crisis/the Depression, wars and mandatory conscription of minorities.
</p>
<p>
This emigration also had a gender aspect. In the wake of the departure of the young men, many young women of marriageable age were left behind in Turkey, as portrayed in the folk song “Buenos Aires”: “As soon as it opened/it filled with boys./The first is my lover/He went and left me.”
</p>
<p>
Many young women understood that if they waited until their prospective grooms had saved enough money to marry off their unmarried sisters and bring over their parents and only then be free to marry them, they themselves would remain unmarried for a long time. Young girls immigrated to pre-state Palestine as part of Youth <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "ascent." A "calling up" to the Torah during its reading in the synagogue.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Aliyah</span></span>, while women whose husbands had emigrated to avoid conscription took the children and left Turkey in any way possible.
</p>
<p>
Turkey became a multi-party democracy between 1945 and 1948. Following the elections of 1946, the rights previously stripped from them were restored to the Jews. Beginning in 1947, Jewish institutions and organizations began to renew their activities: sports groups, B’nai B’rith and camps for Jewish children were established.
</p>
<p>
In schools with a majority of Jewish children, Hebrew and religion were studied once more. With the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, Jews were forbidden to immigrate there, but when the government changed in 1949, a mass aliyah began. Within four years, over half of Turkey’s Jews reached Israel. At the end of the twentieth century, there were some twenty thousand Jews living in Turkey, who were involved in all spheres of society, the economy, education, science and culture. While the younger generation is no longer fluent in Ladino, the community has a Ladino theater group, a musical group, Ladino journal and a museum. Jewish women poets and writers are publishing poetry, collections of sayings, stories and cookbooks in Ladino and Turkish.
</p>
</div>
<span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/d7admin" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">d8admin</span></span>
<span>Fri, 02/27/2009 - 09:30</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/author/hadar-gila" hreflang="und">Gila Hadar</a>
<div class="field field-name-field-bibliography field-type-text-long field-label-above">
<div class="field-label">Bibliography</div>
<div class="field-item"><div class="biblio">
<h3>Primary Sources (Archives) <helptopic></helptopic></h3>
<helptopic><p> Central Zionist Archives, Jerusalem. S3/463/2, February 26, 1941.</p>
<p> S75/1504 1505, 1506, 1943–1944.</p>
<p> S25/6308, June 29, 1946.</p>
<p> Archives de l’Alliance Israélite Universelle. Dossiers: Turquie XCVI E,
carton 7145. Turquie II B4–7, carton 657, 1–4. </p>
</helptopic><h3>
English Secondary Sources (books and articles)
</h3><helptopic><p> Benbassa, Esther. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">ayim
Nahoum, A Sephardic Chief Rabbi in Politics, 1892–1923: Selected Letters and
Documents </span>(Hebrew). Jerusalem: 1998 (English edition, Tuscaloosa, AL:
1995).</p>
<p> Duben, Alan, and Cem Behar. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Istanbul
Households: Marriage, Family and Fertility, 1880–1940.</span> Cambridge: 1991.</p>
<p> Jelavich, Barbara. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">History
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<p> Karpat, Kemal H. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Ottoman
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<p> Lamdan, Ruth. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">A
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<p> Levy, Avigdor. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
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<p> Idem, ed. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
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<p> Lewis, Bernard. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
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<p> McCarthy, Justin. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Muslims
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<p> Rodrigue, Aron. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">French
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Jewish Schooling in Turkey, 1860–1925.</span> Bloomington, IN: 1990. </p>
</helptopic><h3>
Hebrew, Ladino and French Secondary Sources (books and articles)
</h3><helptopic><p> Attias, Moshe. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Romancero
Sefaradi: Romansas y cantes populares en Judeo-Español </span>(Hebrew and
Ladino). Jerusalem: 1961.</p>
<p> Idem. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Jewish-Sephardic
</span>Cancionero:<span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Folk Songs in Judeo-Spanish</span> (Hebrew). Jerusalem: 1972.</p>
<p> Bardavid, Beki. “The Life of Turkey’s Jews from 1850 to 1950” (Ladino).
<span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Aki
Yerushalayim</span> 61 (1999): 15–17.</p>
<p> Benbassa, Esther, and Aron Rodrigue. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Jews
of the Balkans: Judeo-Iberian Spaces, Fourteenth–Twentieth Centuries </span>(French).
Paris: 1993.</p>
<p> Bornstein-Makovetsky, Lea. “Activities of the American Mission” (Hebrew).
In <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Yemei
ha-Sahar: Peraqim be-Toledot ha-Yehudim ba-Imperiyah ha-Otmanit</span>, edited
by M. Rozen, 273–310. Tel Aviv: 1996.</p>
<p> Idem. “Immigration to Ere<i>z</i>
Israel from the Ottoman Empire in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries”
(Hebrew). <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">Shorashim
ba-Mizra</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">:
Kevatzim le-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">eker
ha-Tenu’ah ha-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">Z</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">ionit
ha-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">alutzit
be-Kehilot Sefarad ve-ha-Islam</span> 5 (2002): 71–96.</p>
<p> Chikorel, Avraham, Araham Strumza, and Shelomo Rabi, eds. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">History
of the</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">Ne’emanei
Tzion–He-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">alutz
Movement in Izmir, Turkey</span> (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: 2002.</p>
<p> Falkon, Mordehay, Daniel Tzipper, and Mashi<i>h</i>
Avidan, eds. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Zionism
and the Jews of Turkey </span>(Hebrew). Jerusalem: 2000.</p>
<p> Friling, Tuvia. “Between Friendly and Hostile Neutrality: Turkey and the
Jews During World War II.” In <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
Last Ottoman Century and Beyond: The Jews in Turkey and the Balkans, 1808–1945</span>,
edited by Minna Rozen, vol. 2, 309–423 (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: 2002.</p>
<p> Galante, Avraham. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">History
of the Jews of Turkey </span>(French). 9 vol. Istanbul: 1985.</p>
<p> Gerber, <i>H</i>ayim,
and Ya’akov Barnai. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Jews
of Izmir in the Nineteenth Century: Turkish Documents from the Shar’i Religious
Court </span>(Hebrew). Jerusalem: 1985.</p>
<p> Levi, Avner. “Attitude of the Turkish Authorities and Society towards the
Jews in Connection with the Alizah Niego Affair” (Hebrew). In <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">evrah
ve-Kehilah, mi-Divrei ha-Kongres ha-Beinleumi ha-Sheni le-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">eker
Moreshet Yahadut Sefarad ve-ha-Mizra</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
1984</span>, edited by A. Hayim, 237–246. Jerusalem: 1991.</p>
<p> Idem. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">History
of the Jews in the Republic of Turkey: Their Political and Judicial Status</span>
(Hebrew). Jerusalem: 1992.</p>
<p> Na<i>h</i>um,
Henri. “The Jews of Izmir in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries”
(Hebrew). <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">Shorashim
ba-Mizra</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">:
Kevatzim le-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">eker
ha-Tenu’ah ha-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">Z</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">ionit
ha-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">alutzit
be-Kehilot Sefarad ve-ha-Islam</span> 5 (2002): 122–151.</p>
<p> Rosanes, S. A. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">History
of the Jews of Turkey and the Eastern Countries in Recent Generations </span>(Hebrew).
Jerusalem: 1945.</p>
<p> Rozen, Minna. “The Life Cycle and Significance of Old Age During the Ottoman
Period” (Hebrew). In <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Daniel
Carpi Jubilee Volume</span>, edited by Dina Porat, Minna Rozen, and Anita
Shapira, 109–175. Tel Aviv: 1996.</p>
<p> Idem. “Public Space and Private Space Among the Jews of Istanbul in the
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries” (Hebrew). <i>Turcica</i>
30 (1998): 331–346.</p>
<p> Idem, ed. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Days
of the Crescent: Chapters in the History of the Jews in the Ottoman Empire
</span>(Hebrew). Tel Aviv: 1996.</p>
<p> Idem. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
Last Ottoman Century and Beyond: The Jews in Turkey and the Balkans, 1808–1945</span>
(Hebrew), vol. 2. Tel Aviv: 2002.</p>
<p> Idem. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
Last Ottoman Century and Beyond: The Jews in Turkey and the Balkans, 1808–1945</span>
(Hebrew), vol. 1 (forthcoming).</p>
<p> Shaul, Eli. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Folklore
of the Jews of Turkey</span> (Ladino). Istanbul: 1994.</p>
<p> Yohas, Esther, ed. <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Sephardic
Jews in the Ottoman Empire: Aspects of Material Culture</span> (Hebrew). Jerusalem:
1989.</p>
<p> Idem. “Characteristic Jewish Attire.” In <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">Yehudei
Sefarad ba-Imperiyah ha-Otmanit: Perakim be-Tarbut ha-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">H</span><i>omrit</i>,
edited by Esther Yohas, 120–171 (Hebrew). Jerusalem: 1989. </p>
</helptopic></div>
</div>
</div>
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<div class="field-item">
<div class="field field-name-field-image field-type-image field-label-hidden field-item"> <a href="https://jwa.org/media/turkey-5-still-image"><img src="https://jwa.org/themes/jwawesome/images/lazy.gif" width="300" height="404" alt="Jewish Women and Man from Bursa, 1873" title="Jewish Women and Man from Bursa, 1873" data-src="//d3q94h10rclvvz.cloudfront.net/sites/default/files/styles/scale_width_300px/public/mediaobjects/Turkey-5.jpg?itok=Y_JTIdu7" class="b-lazy" typeof="foaf:Image" /></a>
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<div class="field field-name-field-caption field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item">Studio portrait depicts two Jewish women and a Jewish man from Bursa (city in northwestern Anatolia) in 1873.
<br />Photograph by Pascal Sébah, courtesy of the U.S. Library of Congress.</div>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/turkey-5-still-image" class="object-details-link" aria-label="View details"><i class="fas fa-search"></i></a>
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<a href="https://jwa.org/media/turkey-1-still-image" hreflang="und">"Juive Arabe" (Jewish Arab), 1889</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/turkey-2-still-image" hreflang="und">Jewish Syrians, Studio Portrait, 1873</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/turkey-3-still-image" hreflang="und"> Jewish Woman, Bedouin Man, Bedouin Woman, 1873</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/turkey-4-still-image" hreflang="und">Women in Traditional Clothing from Salonikia, 1873</a>
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</section>Fri, 27 Feb 2009 14:30:19 +0000d8admin6502 at https://jwa.orgRitual in the United Stateshttps://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/ritual-in-united-states
<span>Ritual in the United States</span>
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden field-item">
<p>
Ritual is an act or a set of actions that employs symbols meaningful to the participants in a formal, repetitive, and stylized fashion. Ritual frames significant moments and important new realities. It is often used to effect transition from one state of being to another, as in weddings, funerals, or graduations. It is one of the most fundamental ways that human beings mark meaning in their personal lives and in the lives of their families and societies. Ritual is created in response to primal human terror that the universe is not inherently ordered and that human existence is ultimately physical and nothing more. Its power lies in the fact that it addresses and engages the body. In the words of the anthropologist <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/myerhoff-barbara">Barbara Myerhoff</a></span><span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">,</span> “Rituals persuade the body...; [in ritual] the entire human sensorium [is involved] through dramatic presentation.”
</p>
<p>
Ritual behavior is universal and innate—witness how young children ritualize accidental behaviors at bedtime, a time of transition from waking to sleep, by insisting on their subsequent precise repetition. It is one of the primary ways an individual or a culture conveys understanding of self to itself or to others and is one of the chief means of conveying that message to future generations. As the anthropologist Joseph Campbell wrote, “Ritual is mythology made alive.” Thus, ritual transmits traditions and can be a powerful agent of cultural conservation. However, precisely because of the dynamic human need it addresses and because material and cultural circumstance change, ritual is constantly being invented, sculpting new meaning for a changed present and for the future. Ritual therefore, can also be a powerful vehicle for social and cultural change.
</p>
<p>
Ritual behavior is one of the fundamental pillars of Judaism, and of all religions, whose concern is precisely with ultimate meaning and purpose. Men in normative (rabbinic) Judaism have far more access to the sacred through personal ritual than do women. Under Jewish law (<span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span>), males are required to don ritual garments (<i><u>z</u></i><i>i</i><i><u>z</u></i><i>it,</i> <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Four-cornered prayer shawl with fringes (<span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">z</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">i</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">z</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">it</span>) at each corner.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">tallit</span></span></i>), which symbolically represent all 613 commandments of the <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Torah she-bi-khetav</span>: Lit. "the written Torah." The Bible; the Pentateuch; <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Tanakh </span>(the Pentateuch, Prophets and Hagiographia)</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Torah</span></span>. Males over age thirteen are required to strap miniscrolls containing key verses of the Torah to the head and arm (phylacteries, or <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Phylacteries</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">tefillin</span></span></i>) and to make repeated signs of the letter <i>shin,</i> which represents one of God’s names, with the straps, thus literally, binding themselves to Torah and emblazoning God’s name on their bodies. A ritualized way of shearing hair leaves the “corners” of the male head conspicuously uncut (<i>pe’ot</i>). Ritual covering of the head is required of all males, as is the growth of full, untrimmed beards. The only time that ritual bodily cutting, otherwise anathematized, is not only allowed but enjoined in Judaism is ritual circumcision (<i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Circumcision</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">berit milah</span></span></i>)<i>,</i> performed as a sign of covenant with God (significantly, on the male organ). These ritualized behaviors effectively sacralize the male body, making it a carrier of the sacred and a vehicle for public demonstration of connectedness to God and Torah.
</p>
<p>
There is no analogous sacralization of the female body in traditional Judaism. On the contrary, such quintessentially female biological functions as menstruation and childbirth plunge women into a state of ritual impurity, <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><em><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Menstruation; the menstruant woman; ritual status of the menstruant woman.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Niddah</span></span> </em></span><span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">[</span>see also <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/female-purity-niddah">Female Purity</a></span><span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">]</span>, meaning “separate,” “outcast,” “ostracized.” Although technically, all Jews are considered ritually impure since loss of the sacrificial system of purification in the Temple, <i>niddah</i> is by far the most elaborate of all the functional remnants of the purity laws, and the one with the greatest behavioral consequences, requiring sexual abstinence and physical separation for a minimum of twelve days a cycle, and even longer after a birth. Female head covering, enjoined for married women only, is not, like that of men, referenced to God. Rather, it signals sexual unavailability to any male but the husband and derives from a male-centered perception of women as sexual objects to men.
</p>
<p>
The extensive world of family and public ritual in normative Judaism is also a male preserve. By religious law or social custom, such fundamental acts as sanctifying the wine and ritually cutting and blessing the bread on the Sabbath and festivals, performing the ritual which formally ends the Sabbath and holidays, lighting <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "dedication." The 8-day "Festival of Lights" celebrated beginning on the 25<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; font-size: 8pt; vertical-align: top">th</span> day of the Hebrew month of Kislev to commemorate the victory of the Jews over the Seleucid army in 164 B.C.E., the re-purification of the Temple and the miraculous eight days the Temple candelabrum remained lit from one cruse of undefiled oil which would have been enough to keep it burning for only one day.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Hanukkah</span></span> candles, leading the <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">A seven-day festival to commemorate the Exodus from Egypt (eight days outside Israel) beginning on the 15<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; font-size: 8pt; vertical-align: top">th</span> day of the Hebrew month of Nissan. Also called the "Festival of Ma<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">zz</span>ot"; the "Festival of Spring"; <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">Pesa</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span>.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Passover</span></span> <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "order." The regimen of rituals, songs and textual readings performed in a specific order on the first two nights (in Israel, on the first night) of Passover.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">seder</span></span>, dwelling in the Tabernacle, blessing and waving the Four Species on Tabernacles, counting in a prayer quorum, leading services, making blessings over the Torah reading, public reading of the Torah and rejoicing with the Torah on the Festival of the Torah (<span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "rejoicing of the Torah." Holiday held on the final day of <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Sukkot </span>to celebrate the completing (and recommencing) of the annual cycle of the reading of the Torah (Pentateuch), which is divided into portions one of which is read every Sabbath throughout the year.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Sim<u>h</u>at Torah</span></span>), are all restricted to men.
</p>
<p>
While women are obligated to observe many of the laws of the Sabbath, festivals, and mourning, especially the prohibitions (“negative mitzvot”), and all those concerning the ritual diet, there are only three female-specific rituals in rabbinic Judaism. These are: <u><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">During the Temple period, the dough set aside to be given to the priests. In post-Temple times, a small piece of dough set aside and burnt. In common parlance, the braided loaves blessed and eaten on the Sabbath and Festivals.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">h</span></span></u>allah-removing and burning a portion of dough before it is baked, lighting the Sabbath and holiday candles, and observing the laws of <i>niddah,</i> which culminate in the woman’s immersion in a ritual bath (<span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><em><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Ritual bath</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Mikveh</span></span></em></span>), after which sexual relations between husband and wife may resume. In fact, however, anyone who bakes is obligated to the dough ritual, and in the absence of a woman, men are obligated to light holiday candles, making the only true female-specific rituals those surrounding uterine or vaginal bleeding, with its attendant connotations. By contrast, men’s immersion in the <i>mikveh</i> is voluntary and is performed to ready them for the Sabbath, holidays, or other sacred pursuits, such as Torah study. This leads to the feminist plaint that through <i>mikveh,</i> men ready themselves for God and women ready themselves for men.
</p>
<p>
Over the centuries, Jewish women elaborated a rich set of rituals with which they sacralized their daily lives, major life-cycle events, and holidays (on which, see below). Intensely meaningful and authoritative to them, these rituals nevertheless did not enjoy the status in the larger community of those ordained by the rabbis (that is, they remained “women’s” rituals, while rabbinic rituals are seen as “Jewish”). The world of female ritual was almost completely obliterated in modern times as women’s forms of spiritual expression, always seen as unlearned and superstitious, were also condemned as unmodern and a threat to Jewish efforts to achieve equality and acceptance in non-Jewish society. As a result, the earliest wave of Jewish feminists perceived only the paucity of normative ritual for women in Judaism. This paucity, the negative associations of some existing ritual, and the utter male-centeredness of most ritual in rabbinic Judaism became the prime area of protest and the spur for creative adaptation and innovation in Jewish feminism.
</p>
<p>
In the past twenty-five years, feminists have elaborated a host of new rituals for women. Some of these, like the <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "daughter of the commandment." A girl who has reached legal-religious maturity and is now obligated to fulfill the commandments</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Bat Mitzvah</span></span></span> for girls (actually initiated by the founder of Reconstructionism, Mordecai Kaplan, in 1922), parallel the established ritual for boys, celebrating attainment of the age of adult responsibility for the commandments of Judaism through such public acts as Torah and <i>haftarah</i> reading, leading services, and giving a <i>devar Torah</i>. Complementarity—appropriating male-identified ritual for females—is not always possible or desirable, however. A prime example is feminist birth rituals for girls. In traditional Ashkenazi practice, the birth of a daughter is marked by the father reciting blessings over the Torah in the synagogue on the Monday, Thursday, or Saturday immediately following the birth, at which point he names the baby, usually in the presence of neither mother nor child. The flagrant imbalance between this modest ritual and that of the <i>berit milah</i> for boys was one of the first that Jewish feminists addressed. However, few have accepted the suggestion of ritual rupture of the hymen as a physical analogue to circumcision. Rather, feminists have created other ceremonies to celebrate the birth of girls and initiate them into the community, such as immersion of the baby in a <i>mikveh,</i> washing her feet as a sign of welcome, wrapping her in a prayer shawl, and lighting candles. Birth ceremonies and some form of bat mitzvah for girls have now become ubiquitous on the Jewish scene, including Orthodoxy, attesting the strength of the feminist critique and the degree to which it has been internalized in a remarkably short time, even by those who claim to reject feminism and the larger culture from which Jewish feminism has borrowed its impulse.
</p>
<p>
The “first phase” of Jewish feminism, in the 1970s, focused on equality: gaining access to and appropriating male-identified rituals and rights, such as donning sacred garments and counting in a prayer quorum. Innovation, however, has become the predominant Jewish feminist expression. In the metaphor of the Jewish feminist theologian<span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/plaskow-judith"> Judith Plaskow</a></span>, feminists want to bake a new pie rather than merely get a piece of the old one. The quest for equality, Plaskow and others argue, is inherently inegalitarian because women seek male-identified roles but men do not value or appropriate traditionally female rituals or spirituality. It is also assimilatory, since ritual and spiritual traditions developed by women are seen as inferior and unworthy of perpetuation. Thus, the quest for equality is based on and reinscribes male normativeness in Judaism, while suppressing specifically female spiritual expression. This situation is analogous to that of Jews or other minorities seeking equality who adopt the majority culture, but forsake their own. As Jews have moved from seeking only equality in the larger society to seeking continued Jewish identity as well as equality, Jewish feminists have evolved from merely adopting male-identified ritual to also elaborating a specifically female ritual expression. Thus, while women in all the movements but Orthodoxy (and even this exclusion is no longer hermetic), now discharge the same traditional functions as men, a host of new rituals have been created to mark female experience. These include rituals for menarche, menopause, pregnancy, labor, birth, infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, abortion, adoption, weaning, hysterectomy, and attaining older-age wisdom.
</p>
<p>
Many of these rituals celebrate female biological functions. Most feminists have rejected the criticism that this defines women biologically, diminishing their full humanity, as patriarchal culture historically has done. Rather, they argue, these rituals assign positive value to functions that traditionally were ignored or despised and have given Jewish women a means to affirm their bodies in a religion that blesses such other bodily functions as bladder and intestinal evacuation.
</p>
<p>
Feminists have also modified existing rituals to reflect women’s full personhood in Judaism, for example, fashioning egalitarian marriage and divorce ceremonies. They have created feminist Passover seders and <i>ushpizin</i> ceremonies in the <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Booth erected for residence during the holiday of Sukkot.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">sukkah</span></span></i> to welcome the Biblical matriarchs, paralleling the traditional invitation to the patriarchs. Some feminists have reclaimed <i>mikveh,</i> rejected out of hand by many, choosing to see in its waters a primal symbol of creation and nurturing, reminiscent of amniotic waters. Feminists use <i>mikveh,</i> however, to affirm female biological functions with no reference to men or to sex, to mark other beginnings or ends, such as birth, menarche, or divorce, or in rituals for physical or emotional healing. Lesbians have created commitment and divorce ceremonies to solemnize lesbian relationships and bring these into the fold of Jewish celebration. Unabashed woman-centeredness marks these rituals.
</p>
<p>
Feminists have reclaimed <i>Rosh </i><i><u>H</u></i><i>odesh</i>, the new moon (celebration of the new month), traditionally a semiholiday for women, creating <i>Rosh </i><i><u>H</u></i><i>odesh</i> groups, which have become a chief venue for creating and transmitting new rituals, including birth ceremonies for girls and adult bat mitzvahs, and for female experience of what anthropologists call “communitas,” radical bonding of those sharing a liminal state or moment. Feminists have reworked the language of ritual by including the matriarchs, feminizing God language or creating grammatically neutral forms to address and name God, and by changing divine images from ones of hierarchy and dominion to ones of immanence, creation, and nurturing. Some have reclaimed and reworked traditional forms of women’s spiritual expression, such as <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps"><em>Tkhines</em></span><i>,</i> private, often intensely personal and moving petitionary prayers that Ashkenazi women recited at candle lighting, immersion in the <i>mikveh,</i> baking, and scores of other sacred or sacralized acts, such as making memorial candles for the dead or celebrating the eruption of a baby’s first tooth. Core male rituals have also been feminized, the participation of the mother and other women, for example, being added to the traditional circumcision ritual. Feminists have also created new rituals to mark the birth of boys, in addition to circumcision, in which the male organ is not the center of attention or sacralization. In this, they have brought feminist ritual creativity to the religious socialization of men, a major new phase in Jewish feminism and Judaism altogether. There are now published collections of feminist Jewish liturgies and rituals, including Penina Adleman’s <i>Miriam’s Well, </i><span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">Marcia</span> F<span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">alk</span>’s <i>The</i> <i>Book of Blessings, </i>the <i>Lifecycles</i> series edited by Debra Orenstein, and a guide to birth ceremonies compiled by the New York branch of the <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">National Council of Jewish Women</span>, testifying to the existence of a reading and practicing constituency and to a process of standardization that is underway. In all this activity, feminists have laid claim not just to perpetuate Judaism as elaborated by male authorities but to fashion it themselves, in their image, as men historically have fashioned Judaism in male image, and have begun to create a feminist Judaism. Their efforts are a prime example of ritual operating as an agent of fundamental cultural change and the rapidity with which such change can occur.
</p>
<p>
For all the unabashed innovation of feminist ritual, indeed, because of it, feminists have sought and found much precedent for female-specific ritual by women in traditional Jewish societies. They point to <i>zeved habat</i> (gift of a daughter) birth ceremonies held in Sephardi, North African, and Syrian communities, at home or in the synagogue, in which mothers and other female relatives participated and the names of the matriarchs were prominent in liturgies that appeared in standard prayer books (including in the current Spanish-Portuguese prayer book), or <i>Rosh </i><i><u>H</u></i><i>odesh</i> festivities on which women relinquished domestic chores and practiced charitable and ritual activities in each other’s company. Scholars such as Chava Weissler and Susan Starr Sered have brought to light rich worlds of female spirituality and ritual within traditional Ashkenazi and Kurdish Jewries, respectively. They have shown how traditional women who completely accepted and indeed venerated rabbinic authority nevertheless authorized themselves to become, in Sered’s words, “ritual experts.” These women sacralized every imaginable aspect of their lives through rituals they created and then successfully communicated as binding for the women of the community—as close an analogue to halakhah (rabbinic law and authority) as one could have. While feminists reject the marginalization that was the context and site for women’s ritual in traditional Jewish societies, they welcome a “usable past” within Judaism to mitigate the sense of breach with Jewish tradition in Jewish feminism, to validate their own ritual creativity, and to contribute one of the essential elements of successful ritual: a sense of naturalness, seamlessness, and harmony.
</p>
<p>
Jewish feminists have created separate space—literally and figuratively (in <i>Rosh </i><i><u>H</u></i><i>odesh</i> groups, retreats, publications)—in which to elaborate their creations. But they have also claimed traditional male Jewish ritual space, in synagogues and rabbinical schools, as rightfully women’s as well as men’s. U.S. feminists were prominent in the creation in December, 1988, of a group of women, who subsequently named themselves the <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">Women of the Wall</span> and are led by Israelis, who claimed no less than Judaism’s most sacred site, the (women’s section of the) Western Wall in Jerusalem, as a place for women’s group prayer, including Torah reading and the use of sacred ritual garments, and women’s rituals, such as bat mitzvahs and birth celebrations. In a prime expression of the women-centeredness that defines Jewish feminism, this group was from its founding and remains adamantly metadenominational, independent of any of the established religious movements, affirming solely Jewish women’s religious expression and solidarity.
</p>
<p>
Jewish feminist rituals reject, create, and also integrate, since the vast majority of Jewish feminists choose to remain within the Jewish community and in remaining, profoundly affect the rest of Judaism. If, in Evan M. Zuesse’s words, rituals “rescue (profane activity) from the terror of inconsequentiality and meaninglessness,” Jewish feminist rituals also rescue feminists from invisibility and derogation in their religious tradition and thus, for all their newness, indeed, because of it, are a prime agent of continued identification. They are without doubt one of the richest creative streams in contemporary Judaism.
</p>
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<span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/d7admin" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">d8admin</span></span>
<span>Fri, 02/27/2009 - 09:28</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/author/magnus-shulamit" hreflang="und">Shulamit S. Magnus</a>
<div class="field field-name-field-bibliography field-type-text-long field-label-above">
<div class="field-label">Bibliography</div>
<div class="field-item"><p>
Adelman, Penina V. <i>Miriam’s Well. Rituals for Jewish Women Around the Year</i> (1986); Adler, Rachel. “Tumah and Taharah: Ends and Beginnings.” The Jewish Woman. In Elizabeth Koltun, ed. <i>The Jewish Woman, New Perspectives</i>. (1976); “In Your Blood, Live: Revisions of a Theology of Purity.” <i>Tikkun</i> 8, no. 1 (January/February 1993): 38-41; <i>Engendering Judaism, An Inclusive Theology and Ethics </i>(1998); Alexander, Bobby C. “Ceremony.” <i>Encyclopedia of Religion</i> 3:179–183; Alpert, Rebecca T. “Exploring Jewish Women’s Rituals.” <i>Bridges</i> 2/1 (Spring 1991/5791): 66–80; Balka, Christie, and Andy Rose, eds. <i>Twice Blessed: On Being Lesbians, Gay and Jewish</i> (1991); Berman, Phyllis. “Enter: A Woman.” <i>Menorah</i> 6, 1–2 (November/December 1984); Broner, E.M. <i>A Weave of Women</i> (1978); Campbell, Joseph. <i>The Masks of God: Primitive Mythology</i> (1970); Cantor, Debra, and Rebecca Jacobs. “Brit Banot: Covenant Ceremonies for Daughters.” <i>Kerem</i> (Winter 1992–1993): 45–55; Chesler, Phyllis and Haut, Rivka, eds. <i>Women of the Wall, Claiming Sacred Ground at Judaism’s Holy Site </i>(2003); Coppet, Daniel, ed. <i>Understanding Rituals</i> (1992); De Sola Pool, David, ed. and trans. <i>Book of Prayers According to the Custom of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews, </i>2<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; vertical-align: top; font-size:8pt;">d</span> ed. (1986); Diamant, Anita. <i>The New Jewish Wedding</i> (1985); Falk, Marcia. <i>The Book of Blessings: A Feminist Reconstruction of Prayer</i> (1992); “Notes on Composing New Blessings: Toward a Feminist/Jewish Reconstruction of Prayer.” <i>Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion</i> 3 (Spring 1978): 39–53; Gross, Rita M. “Female God Language in a Jewish Context.” In <i>Womanspirit Rising: A Feminist Reader in Religion,</i> edited by Carol P. Christ and Judith Plaskow (1979); Guren Klirs, Tracy, comp. and trans. <i>The Merit of Our Mothers. A Bilingual Anthology of Jewish Women’s Prayers</i> (1992); Heschel, Susannah, ed. <i>On Being a Jewish Feminist</i> (1983); Hill, Helen. “Simchat Bat…” <i>Jewish Chronicle, </i>Aug. 5, 1994; Cardoza, Abraham Lopes (former <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span><i>azzan </i>of Congregation Shearith Israel, Manhattan), and Irma Lopes Cardoza. Interview. January 5, 2004; Kaye/Kantrowitz, Melanie, and Irena Klepfisz. <i>The Tribe of Dina: A Jewish Woman’s Anthology</i> (1986); <i>Kerem: Creative Explorations in Judaism;</i> Koltun, Elizabeth, ed. <i>The Jewish Woman: An Anthology.</i> Special Issue of <i>Response,</i> no. 17 (Summer 1973); Koltun, Elizabeth. <i>The Jewish Woman: New Perspectives</i> (1976); Leifer, Daniel I. and Leifer, Myra. “On the Birth of a Daughter.” In <i>The Jewish Woman, New Perspectives, </i>ed. by Elizabeth Koltun (1976); Levine, Elizabeth Resnick, ed. <i>A Ceremonies Sampler: New Rites, Celebrations and Observances of Jewish Women</i> (1991); Lewin, Ellen. “‘Why in the World Would You Want to Do That?’ Claiming Community in Lesbian Commitment Ceremonies.” In <i>Inventing Lesbian Cultures in America,</i> edited by E. Lewin (1996); <i>Lilith: The Independent Jewish Woman’s Magazine;</i> Magnus, Shulamit S. “More Light on Menarche.” <i>New Menorah,</i> 2d series, 1 (Winter 1985); “Reinventing Miriam’s Well: Feminist Jewish Ceremonials.” In <i>The Uses of Tradition,</i> edited by Jack Wertheimer (1992); “Simchat Lev: Celebrating a Birth.” In <i>Lifecycles: Jewish Women on Life Passages and Personal Milestones,</i> vol. 1, ed. by Debra Orenstein (1994); “Kol Isha: Women and Pauline Wengeroff’s Writing of an Age,” <i>Nashim</i> 7 (Spring 2004); Myerhoff, Barbara. “Rites of Passage: Process and Paradox.” In <i>Celebration: Studies in Festivity,</i> edited by Victor Turner (1982); Myerhoff, Barbara, et al. “Rites of Passage.” <i>Encyclopedia of Religion</i> 12: 380–387; Plaskow, Judith. “God and Feminism.” <i>Menorah</i> 3/2 (February 1982), and <i>Standing Again at Sinai</i> (1990); <i>The Reconstructionist: A Journal of Contemporary Jewish Thought and Practice;</i> Reifman, Toby Fishbein, ed. <i>Blessing the Birth of a Daughter: Jewish Naming Ceremonies for Girls</i> (1976); <i>Response: A Contemporary Jewish Review;</i> Ritualwell.org. <<a href="http://www.ritualwell.org&gt">www.ritualwell.org&gt</a>;; Sered, Susan Starr. <i>Women as Ritual Experts: The Religious Life of Elderly Jewish Women in Jerusalem</i> (1992); Turner, Kay. “Contemporary Feminist Rituals.” In <i>The Politics of Women’s Spirituality,</i> edited by Charlene Spretnak (1982); Turner, Victor. <i>Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure</i> (1977); Weidman Schneider, Susan. <i>Jewish and Female: Choices and Changes in Our Lives Today</i> (1985); Weissler, Chava. <i>Voices of the Matriarchs. Listening to the Prayers of Early Modern Jewish Women</i> (1998); “Images of the Matriarchs in Yiddish Supplicatory Prayers.” <i>Bulletin of the Center for the Study of World Relations</i> 14, no. 1 (1988): 45–51; “The Traditional Piety of Ashkenazic Women.” In <i>Jewish Spirituality from the Sixteenth Century Revival to the Present,</i> edited by Arthur Green. Vol. 2 (1987): 245–275; “Traditional Yiddish Literature: A Source for the Study of Women’s Religious Lives.” The Jacob Pat Memorial Lecture, Harvard College Library, 1987; Zuesse, Evan M. “Ritual.” <i>The Encyclopedia of Religion</i> (1987).
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<div class="field field-name-field-biomainimage field-type-entity-reference field-label-hidden field-items">
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<div class="field field-name-field-image field-type-image field-label-hidden field-item"> <a href="https://jwa.org/media/spirituality-2-still-image"><img src="https://jwa.org/themes/jwawesome/images/lazy.gif" width="300" height="383" alt="Feminist Seder, 1991" title="Feminist Seder, 1991" data-src="//d3q94h10rclvvz.cloudfront.net/sites/default/files/styles/scale_width_300px/public/mediaobjects/Spirituality-2.jpg?itok=-4z01II7" class="b-lazy" typeof="foaf:Image" /></a>
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<div class="caption">
<div class="field field-name-field-caption field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>Feminist seders have provided an important context for developing women’s spirituality. In 1975, a group of Israeli and American women decided to create their own Passover seder based on their experiences as Jewish women. Now an annual event held in Manhattan, it has been attended by Esther Broner, Gloria Steinem, Letty Cottin Pogrebin, Bella Abzug, Grace Paley and several other "Seder Sisters" who have played important roles in the development of Jewish feminism. Shown here are Bella Abzug, Phyllis Chesler and Letty Cottin Pogrebin at the Women's Seder in 1991.</p><p>Photo: Joan Roth</p></div>
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<a href="https://jwa.org/media/bat-mitzvah-2-still-image" hreflang="und">Yael Schneider at her Bat Mitzah with Betsy Cohen-Kallus and Susan Weidman Schneider at the Western Wall in Jerusalem</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/falk-marcia-small-still-image" hreflang="und">Marcia Falk</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/plaskow-judith-small-still-image" hreflang="und">Judith Plaskow, 2004</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/ritual-us-1-smal-still-image" hreflang="und">Tashlikh Ritual, circa 1920s</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/ritual-us-2-still-image" hreflang="und">Tashlikh Ritual on the Williamsburg Bridge, 1909</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/ritual-us-3-still-image" hreflang="und">Tashlikh Ritual on the Brooklyn Bridge</a>
<a href="https://jwa.org/media/ritual-us-4-still-image" hreflang="und">MA'YAN Tashlikh Ceremony</a>
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</section>Fri, 27 Feb 2009 14:28:53 +0000d8admin5941 at https://jwa.orgKaraite Womenhttps://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/karaite-women
<span>Karaite Women</span>
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden field-item">
<p>
Family law and personal status of women are important aspects of both the daily life and the <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span><i> </i>of Karaite communities<i>.</i> Karaite legal sources often deal with rules pertaining to betrothal, marriage, divorce, ritual purity and incest. Crucial to the identity and the continuity of Karaite community, these issues had considerable impact on the relationships between Karaites and mainstream Rabbanite Jews. In consequence, they were subjected to sustained polemical discussions and modifications during the emergence and the “golden age” of the movement, between the eighth and the twelfth centuries, in Babylonia, Egypt and Palestine.
</p>
<h2>
THE KARAITES
</h2>
<p>
Often defined as a separatist “sect,” Karaism in fact originated as a distinctive religious and intellectual movement inside Judaism itself. It was initiated in eighth-century Babylonia, and medieval Jewish and Arab sources link its origins with a member of the family of Jewish exilarchs, Anan ben David. Some scholars have argued that there exists a direct link between medieval Karaites and some Second Temple Jewish sects, but at present there is no sufficient evidence to ascertain continuity or a direct influence reaching from antiquity. While the movement was first established in Iraq and Persia, some followers of Karaism migrated towards the Mediterranean by the end of the ninth century. By the tenth and eleventh centuries, well established Karaite communities existed in Egypt, North Africa and Spain, and also in Palestine where, from the tenth century, Jerusalem became the most influential intellectual center and the seat of the Karaite academy of learning. Simultaneously, Karaite communities spread into Byzantium, reaching Crimea, and later, in the fourteenth century, Lithuania. Today, the most important Karaite community is in Israel, its religious center located in Ramle. This community is composed mainly of Egyptian and Iraqi Karaites. European Karaites still dwell in Lithuania, as well as in Russia, Poland, Western Europe and USA.
</p>
<p>
From the outset, the most essential aspect of Karaite doctrines has concerned the sources and authority of law. According to the principle most clearly formulated by Jacob al-Qirqisani (ninth century) under the partial influence of the Muslim Mu‘tazila school, the binding authority of Karaite laws and customs derives from one of three legal principles: the Bible (both the Pentateuch and the Prophets and Hagiographa) (<i>al-nass</i>), the analogy (<i>al-qiyas</i>) and the consensus of the nation as a whole (<i>al-ijma‘</i>) (<i>Kitab al-Anwar</i> II. 18:1). The latter is often identified with “tradition” (<i>naqal</i>) and “inheritance” (<i>wiratha</i>). While the Bible is considered to be of divine origin, the analogy and the consensus (tradition) are of human making. The laws based on any of these principles are equally binding, but their theoretical status is different, in that the laws derived by analogy or consensus cannot overrule or stand in contradiction with the biblical text. This theoretical approach to the sources of <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span> implies that the Karaites rejected the divine origin attributed to the <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Lit. "teaching," "study," or "learning." A compilation of the commentary and discussions of the <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">amora'im</span> on the Mishnah. When not specified, "Talmud" refers to the Babylonian Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Talmud</span></span> and the authority of its sages. This does not mean that the Karaites do not observe non-biblical laws and customs; in fact many binding Karaite rules, and notably those concerning women (e.g. the marriage contract, <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Marriage document (in Aramaic) dictating husband's personal and financial obligations to his wife.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">ketubbah</span></span></i>) are not mentioned in the Bible, and are clearly identical to the Rabbanite practices recorded in talmudic and gaonic literature. At the same time, the Karaites rejected the post-biblical teachings which seem to be in contradiction to the word of the Bible<strong>. </strong>The bible<strong> </strong>itself was<strong> </strong>interpreted literally, with particular attention to the nuances of the Hebrew language. This interpretation could be highly personal<strong>, </strong>as every<strong> </strong>adult (male) Karaite has a duty to study the Bible individually, without relying on any “canonical” corpus of commentaries or authorities. Such freedom was<strong> </strong>already posited in an apocryphal dictum attributed to Anan ben David: “Search well in the Bible, and do not rely on my opinion”.<strong> </strong>It<strong> </strong>requires thorough knowledge of the language of the Bible and its grammar, and also leads inevitably to a multiplicity of interpretations.
</p>
<h2>
THE SOURCES
</h2>
<p>
The importance of laws and customs regarding women and their personal status is reflected in Karaite scholarly works and commentaries from the very beginning of the movement. Those aspects in which the Karaites differed from the Rabbanites (such as the<strong> </strong>permissibility of marriage and the definition of incest) were dealt with in great detail in special sections in early Karaite codes of law, such as the <i>Sefer <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">A biblical or rabbinic commandment; also, a good deed.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Mitzvot</span></span></i> of Anan ben David (Baghdad, eighth century), the <i>Kitab al-Anwar wal-Maraqib</i> of Jacob al-Qirqisani (Iraq, 937) and the <i>Sefer Mitzvot</i> of Levi ben Yefet (Palestine, early eleventh century). These issues were also mentioned in various works and commentaries by such authors as Benjamin al-Nahawendi (Babylonia, ninth century), Daniel al-Qumisi (Babylonia-Palestine, tenth century), Yefet ben Ali (Babylonia-Palestine, tenth century) and Yusuf al-Basir (Babylonia-Palestine, early eleventh century), and generated a number of dedicated monographs, such as the book on prohibited categories of kinship by Solomon ben David, the Karaite Nasi (Palestine, tenth century), and the <i>Sefer Arayot</i> or <i>Sefer ha-Yashar</i> by Jehoshua ben Jehuda. These two monographs are polemical in nature, and their authors criticized in particular the laws of incest, namely the theory of “chain reaction” or “compounding” (<i>rikkuv</i>), as upheld by earlier Karaite authorities. The topic of incest also received a great deal of attention among later Karaites, for example in Byzantine legal compendia such as <i>Eshkol ha-Kofer</i> by Jehuda Hadassi (twelfth century), <i>Gan Eden</i> by Aharon ben Eliya (fourteenth century), and <i>Aderet Eliyahu</i> by Eliyahu Bashyaci (sixteenth century).
</p>
<p>
The laws of betrothal and marriage have received less attention, except for the aforementioned later Byzantine authors who also devoted specific sections of their legal compendia to these topics. Nevertheless, most of the early essential rules can be gleaned and reconstructed from various discussions in major codes of law, such as those of Anan ben David (in his discussions on <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Marriage between a widow whose husband died childless (the <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">yevamah</span>) and the brother of the deceased (the <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">yavam</span> or levir).</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">levirate marriage</span></span>), Benjamin al-Nahawendi, Jacob al-Qirqisani and Levi ben Yefet. These sources can be complemented by actual legal contracts pertaining to marriage<strong>, </strong>which have been preserved in the Cairo <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Place for storing books or ritual objects which have become unusable.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Genizah</span></span> (tenth–twelfth centuries) and in the Abraham Firkovitch (1786–1874) collections in Saint Petersburg (mainly from the fifteenth to the nineteenth centuries).
</p>
<h2>
PERMISSIBILITY OF MARRIAGE
</h2>
<p>
In order to contract marriage, the parties must be “marriageable,” that is: the partners must be Jewish, the woman must be unmarried, and the parties should not fall into any of the kinship categories prohibited by Karaite law.
</p>
<h3>
1. The parties’ religious affiliation
</h3>
<p>
Marriages with non-Jewish partners are not acceptable for Karaites. Marriages with Rabbanite partners were perfectly legal and commonly practised before the thirteenth century. Medieval Karaism was and saw itself as an integral part of Judaism, and<strong> </strong>such marriages did not entail any form of “conversion” of any of the parties. Seven marriage contracts involving Karaite and Rabbanite individuals have so far been discovered in the Cairo <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Place for storing books or ritual objects which have become unusable.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Genizah</span></span>. These marriage contracts stipulated the mutual tolerance of those practices in which the Karaites and the Rabbanites differed. These specific stipulations concerned differences in dietary law, such as the Rabbanite husband’s promise not to bring to their house parts of animals authorized by the Rabbanites but forbidden by the Karaite <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span> (the fat tail, the kidneys, the lobe of the liver, the meat of a pregnant animal). Other stipulations concerned the Karaite restrictions on lighting the Sabbath candles and the promise of Rabbanite husbands not to make love to their Karaite wives during Sabbath and festivals—practices strictly forbidden by Karaite law. Due to the calendrical differences, Karaite and Rabbanite festivals did not coincide, and the marriage contracts always included a clause which guaranteed that both parties would be allowed to observe their festivals on their respective dates.
</p>
<p>
Marriages between Karaite and Rabbanite partners came to a halt when <span class="encyclopedia_smallcaps">Moses <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Moses ben Maimon (Rambam), b. Spain, 1138</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Maimonides</span></span></span> (<span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Moses ben Maimon (Rambam), b. Spain, 1138</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">Rambam</span></span>, 1138–1204) argued that while the Karaite marriage itself was binding, their bill of divorce was invalid (probably because of its formulation in Hebrew). Since the children issued from the second union of a Karaite divorcée would be illegitimate (<i>mamzerim</i>), and since it was not always possible to ascertain that a divorce had not occured in previous generations in a Karaite family, Maimonides decided to consider all Karaites as potential <i>mamzerim</i>, and therefore prohibited for marriage.
</p>
<h3>
2. Polygamy
</h3>
<p>
While the marriage of a woman to more than one man at a time is forbidden, a Karaite man could in principle have more than one wife provided he could fulfill all his duties towards both women. However, the right of the husband to take a second wife could be restricted through the inclusion of a special anti-polygamy clause in the betrothal or marriage contract.
</p>
<h3>
3. Prohibited Categories of Kinship
</h3>
<p>
The prohibited categories of kinship are derived by Karaite authors from all three principles of the Karaite <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span>: the biblical text, the analogy, and the consensus of the community. The most important categories of prohibited relatives are mentioned in Lev. 18:6–18 and 20:14. They are: parents, stepmother, mother-in-law, sister and half-sister, stepsister, grand-daughter, father’s and mother’s sister, wife of father’s brother, daughter-in-law, brother’s wife, stepdaughter and step-grand-daughter, and wife’s sister, even after the first wife’s death or divorce. These categories, some based on consanguinity and others on ties by marriage, are all considered as blood relations and called <i>she’ar basar</i> (“flesh”). Unlike the Rabbanites, who put limits on the use of analogy in the matters of incest, prior to the eleventh century the Karaites used analogy, and analogy upon analogy to the fourth degree in order to derive from these basic categories further forbidden degrees of kinship. These analogical derivations were based on three principles:
</p>
<div><ol type="1"><a name="wp9000019" id="wp9000019"> </a><div><li>The prohibitions set in the Bible work “upwards” and “downwards” <i>along generations</i>. For example, the prohibition of granddaughters in Lev. 18:10 concerns all the generations of their descendants, and implies the prohibition of grandparents, great-grandparents, etc.</li></div>
<a name="wp9000020" id="wp9000020"> </a><div><li>The prohibitions apply <i>from one gender to the other</i>. When Lev. 18:9 states, for example, that a sister is forbidden to her brother, this implies that also the brother is forbidden to his sister. </li></div>
<a name="wp9000021" id="wp9000021"> </a><div><li>The prohibitions apply <i>across lineages</i>. The biblical “Hence a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, so that they become one flesh” (Gen. 2:24) was understood literally, and implied that all the members of the wife’s family become automatically the kinsmen of the groom and his family. This widening of the prohibited degrees of kinship by marriage (<i>rikkuv)</i> was practiced from Anan’s times until the second half of the eleventh century.</li></div>
</ol></div>
<p>
Other prohibited degrees of kinship derived from other biblical verses, include Benjamin al-Nahawendi’s prohibition (based on Song of Songs 8:1) of the marriage between milk sisters and brothers, i.e. otherwise unrelated individuals who were nursed by the same woman.
</p>
<p>
This excessive use of analogical derivations from the Bible led in practice to the multiplication of the prohibited categories of kinship. These prohibited categories included three cases in which the Karaite law was in opposition to Rabbanite rules:
</p>
<div><ol type="1"><a name="wp9000024" id="wp9000024"> </a><div><li>The marriage of a man to his wife’s sister even after the dissolution of the marriage (derived in a different way by Karaite authors from Lev. 18:14 or Lev. 18:18).</li></div>
<a name="wp9000025" id="wp9000025"> </a><div><li>Marriage with one’s niece, based on principles of gender equivalence and continuity along generations. Lev. 18:12-13 contains a prohibition for a man to marry his maternal or paternal aunt, and since it applies to both sexes, it also prohibits a woman’s marrying her paternal or maternal uncle, and effectively the uncle to marry his niece.</li></div>
<a name="wp9000026" id="wp9000026"> </a><div><li>The marriage of two brothers with two sisters, derived either from the literal interpretation of Gen. 2:24 (above), or from Lev. 18:16: “Do not uncover the nakedness of your brother’s wife; it is the nakedness of your brother.” According to the principle of gender equivalence, whoever of his own kin is forbidden to the husband, the corresponding kin of his wife is also forbidden to him. Thus, one’s wife becomes her husband’s brother’s sister, and so does her sister.</li></div>
</ol></div>
<p>
This extensive use of analogy widened the circle of consanguinity to such an extent that marriageable partners became increasingly scarce. The rules of <i>rikkuv</i> were finally abolished in the eleventh century through the arguments of Yusuf al-Basir and especially his Jerusalemite disciple, Jehoshua ben Jehuda. Since then, the prohibited kinship degrees (<i>she’ar</i>, “flesh”) have been only those explicitly mentioned in Lev. 18:6–18, their blood relatives (<i>she’ar ha-she’ar</i> “flesh of the flesh”), and those who are derived from them by analogy to the first degree only.
</p>
<h2>
LEVIRATE MARRIAGE
</h2>
<p>
The biblical rules of levirate (the duty of a man to marry the widow of his deceased brother or kinsman) and its possible exemption by <i><u>h</u></i><i>ali</i><i><u>z</u></i><i>ah</i> (Deut. 25:5–10) were compulsory when a childless woman was widowed or when her fiancé died after the betrothal and before the actual marriage. However, the strict incest rules discussed above actually forbade the real brother of the deceased to marry his widow, and the duty of <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Marriage between a widow whose husband died childless (the <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">yevamah</span>) and the brother of the deceased (the <span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">yavam</span> or levir).</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">levirate marriage</span></span> was incumbent upon “permissible” family members (e.g. cousins).
</p>
<h2>
BETROTHAL
</h2>
<p>
Before the actual marriage, the marriageable partners became engaged to each other in a betrothal ceremony (<i>erusin</i>). The act of betrothal constituted a binding financial engagement, which involved the payment by the fiancé of a part of the marriage payment and his promise to pay the second part of the marriage payment at a later stage. The payment was made to an agent (<i>pakid</i>), who had been previously appointed by the fiancée in court, in the presence of two witnesses. The betrothal, the money transfer and further guarantees for the period between the betrothal and the marriage itself are recorded in a written document (<i>sefer erus</i>), established before the court and witnesses. If the actual marriage did not take place at the date agreed on, the fiancé was bound to provide for his fiancée’s needs. In case of breach of promise, the fiancé had to release his fiancée with a letter of divorce and also pay a penalty equal to one half of the advance marriage payment.
</p>
<h2>
MARRIAGE
</h2>
<p>
Three elements are essential for contracting a Karaite marriage: marriage payments (<i>mohar</i>), writ (<i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Marriage document (in Aramaic) dictating husband's personal and financial obligations to his wife.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">ketubbah</span></span></i>, marriage contract) and sexual intercourse (<i>bi’ah</i>). The <i>mohar</i> given by the Karaite groom consists of three distinct payments, all three necessary for the validity of the marriage: the basic marriage payment and the additional marriage payment<strong>,</strong> which is in turn divided into advance (<i>mukdam</i>) and delayed (<i>me’uhar</i>) portions. The basic marriage payment was given by the groom in its totality on the day of the marriage. Its amount, derived from Ex. 22:16 and Deut. 22:16, was fixed at an early stage of Karaite <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span> to fifty silver coins if the bride was a virgin, and twenty-five silver coins if she was a widow or a divorcée. The amount of the additional marriage payment was not fixed, but negotiated according to the economic capacities of the parties. It was paid in two portions: advance, which was paid in totality at the betrothal, or partly at the betrothal and partly at the marriage itself (together with the basic marriage payment), and delayed, which remained as a debt upon the husband, stipulated in the <i>ketubbah</i>. It was not paid to the woman during the marriage but in the event of its<strong> </strong>dissolution, and remained a guarantee of the woman’s financial security.
</p>
<p>
The wife brought into the marriage the dowry or trousseau given to her by her father or his heirs. The dowry legally belonged to the wife, but remained under her husband’s jurisdiction for the duration of the marriage. The husband had full rights to use and enjoy these items of property, but he was also legally liable for them, and had to return them intact (or pay their exact monetary value) upon the eventual<strong> </strong>dissolution of the marriage.
</p>
<h2>
INHERITANCE
</h2>
<p>
In Karaite law, the husband is not the automatic heir of his wife. If she dies childless before her husband, her entire dowry must be returned to her father or his heirs, while the husband retains only the delayed portion of the additional marriage payment. If the couple has children, the dowry remains with the husband until his death, when the children inherit it. Among the Karaites, unlike the Rabbanites, daughters have equal rights of inheritance with sons. However, after his wife’s death the widower could remarry and have children by a second wife, who could potentially share the inheritance left by the first wife. To prevent this, a Karaite woman was entitled to issue a special document to ensure that her dowry would be inherited only by her own children. The wife could also enforce the inheritance of her estate by her children from a previous marriage by inserting a special stipulation into her marriage contract.
</p>
<h2>
DIVORCE
</h2>
<p>
The legal procedure of Karaite divorce, its possible grounds, the instrumental role of the letter of divorce and its consequences are all derived from Deut. 24:1–4: “If a man takes a woman and marries her, and if later she finds no favour in his eyes because he found in her a shameful thing, he will then write for her a letter of divorcement, give it into her hands and send her away from his house. If this woman, after departing his house, marries another man, and if this latter husband hates her too and writes her a letter of<strong> </strong>divorce, gives it into her hands and sends her away from his house, or if this latter husband dies, her former husband who divorced her cannot take her again to be his wife”.<strong> </strong>However, the unilateral aspect of the divorce described in the Bible—initiated and carried out exclusively by the husband—was not maintained by the Karaite sages, who strengthened the rights of the woman: in order to divorce his wife, the husband must have solid and sufficient reason to do so, not trivial incidents or disagreements, and the woman’s readiness to discontinue the marriage must be taken into consideration. Some early scholars accepted the woman’s right to initiate the divorce by demanding the courts to coerce her husband to write her a letter of divorce, especially if the husband did not fulfil his three obligations: food, clothes and sexual intercourse, as derived from Ex. 21:11—obligations which he undertook to fulfil in the marriage contract.
</p>
<p>
From the early eleventh century, the Karaite <span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">The legal corpus of Jewish laws and observances as prescribed in the Torah and interpreted by rabbinic authorities, beginning with those of the Mishnah and Talmud.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">halakhah</span></span> introduced a real reinforcement of women’s rights in matters of divorce: divorce by juridical decree. First mentioned by Levi ben Yefet ha-Levi in his <i>Book of Precepts</i>, this practice has been maintained by later Karaites until today and constitutes a distinctive feature of Karaite divorce law. It amounts to the right of the Karaite court to issue a letter of divorce if the husband himself refuses to do so.
</p>
<h2>
RITUAL PURITY
</h2>
<p>
The rules regulating the behaviour of and towards women during the period of menstruation or after childbirth have been dealt with in great detail by Karaites authorities since Anan ben David. The Karaites obeyed these rules with particular care. The blood of menstruation (<i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Menstruation; the menstruant woman; ritual status of the menstruant woman.</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">niddah</span></span></i>), vaginal discharge (<i>zavah</i>) or childbirth (<i>ledah</i>) render the woman unclean. For a prescribed period of time, she may not have sexual intercourse with her husband, nor may she enter places of worship. According to many Karaite authors, she must also refrain from cooking and other domestic chores (although Anan ben David allows her to kindle the fire), and should be almost completely separated from her normal surroundings. The impurity caused by the blood of a menstruating woman can be transferred to any person or objects (bedding, clothing or seat) in contact with her. After a certain length of time, and according to her condition, she must purify herself by immersion in running water (though not in a ritual bath, as Karaites do not practice the institution of <i><span class="encyclopedia-glossary"><span class="def-container"><span class="encyclopedia-definition">Ritual bath</span></span><span class="encyclopedia-term">mikveh</span></span></i>). Purification is also required for people or objects that she rendered unclean. Although different Karaite authors held various and sometimes divergent opinions about certain aspects of the laws of purity, the basic rules are based on biblical injunction as expressed in Lev. 15:19–29 and Lev. 20:18. A menstruating woman is considered unclean and can transmit the impurity for seven days after the beginning of her menses. Since the ramifications of contact with menstrual blood are important, Karaite authors often deal with the ways of determining the beginning of menstruation. When a woman feels the first blood of menstruation, there is no doubt when the period of seven ritually impure days has begun. But since women often see blood only later, without knowing the precise moment when their menses have begun, Karaite authors advise that a woman should check regularly for blood when the usual time of her menstruation approaches, and in case she does not feel the exact moment, her period of impurity counts from the last time she checked. If she did not check, it counts from the day her menstruation was normally due to begin. The period of seven days of ritual impurity is counted from the moment she sees her blood. If she sees no further blood on the eighth day, she is ritually pure, and permitted to her husband after washing (unlike the period of at least twelve days prescribed by the Rabbanites). If she notices any blood after the seventh day, the woman is considered to have a discharge (<i>zavah</i>). Now, in order to be permitted to her husband, she needs to count seven “clean days” once blood flow has ceased.
</p>
<p>
The rules concerning a woman after childbirth are based on Lev. 12:1–8. According to the Bible, a woman is unclean for seven days after the birth of a boy and for two weeks after the birth of a girl. In addition, she may not participate in religious life nor may she enter the sanctuary for a further thirty-three days after the birth of a boy and sixty-six after the birth of a girl. According to most Karaite authors, a woman is unclean (and may not engage in sexual intercourse with her husband) just as she is during menstruation, for the full forty days after the birth of a boy and eighty days after the birth of a girl.
</p>
<p>
In conclusion,<strong> </strong>while Karaite laws concerning women and their status are mostly similar to those practiced by mainstream Rabbanite Jews, there are several differences which result either from the Karaite reinterpretation of relevant biblical passages or from the influence of Muslim laws and customs. Many of these distinctive features, such as the wife’s right to initiate divorce or the equal rights of daughters and sons to their father’s estate, indicate the high legal and social position of Karaite women in medieval Jewish communities.
</p>
</div>
<span><span lang="" about="https://jwa.org/users/d7admin" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">d8admin</span></span>
<span>Fri, 02/27/2009 - 09:26</span>
by <a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/author/olszowy-schlanger-judith" hreflang="und">Judith Olszowy-Schlanger</a>
<div class="field field-name-field-bibliography field-type-text-long field-label-above">
<div class="field-label">Bibliography</div>
<div class="field-item"><div class="biblio">
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<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
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Cincinnati: 1993.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
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Anthology.</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">
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<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none">
Pinsker, Sim</span><i>h</i><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">ah.
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<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
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<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
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<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
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<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
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Caraïtes: un autre judaïsme.</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Paris: 1992.</span> </p>
</helptopic><h3>
Karaite Halakhah Concerning Women
</h3><helptopic><p> <span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Aaron
ben Eliya. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Gan
Eden.</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Eupatoria: 1864 (edition).</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Corinaldi, Michael. “The Problem of Divorce by Judicial Decree in Karaite
Halakhah.” </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Dinei
Israel</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
9 (1979–1980): 101–144.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Ibid. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
Personal Status of the Karaites</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
(Hebrew), Jerusalem: 1984.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Ibid. “Karaite Halakhah.” In </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">An
Introduction to the History and Sources of Jewish Law</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
edited by Neil S. Hecht et al., 251–269. Oxford: 1996.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Eliyahu ben Moses Bashyaci. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Aderet
Eliyahu.</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Odessa: 1870 (edition princeps Constantinople: 1530).</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Firkovitch, Abraham, ed. Aaron ben Joseph’s </span><i>Miv</i><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">h</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">ar
Yesharim</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
containing </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Mas’at
Binjamin</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
Benjamin al-Nahawendi’s Book of Legal Decisions, Eupatoria: 1834.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Eisenstein, Judah David. “The Karaite Law of Incest” (Hebrew). </span><i>O</i><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: underline; text-transform: none">z</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">ar
Israel</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
VIII, London: 1935: 143–145.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Friedman, Mordechai A. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Jewish
Marriage in Palestine: A Cairo Genizah Study.</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
2 vols, Tel Aviv and New York: 1980–1981.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Ibid. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Jewish
Polygyny in the Middle Ages: New Documents from the Cairo Genizah</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
(Hebrew). Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: 1986.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Ginzberg, Louis. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Ginzei
Schechter: Genizah Studies in Memory of Doctor Solomon Schechter</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
Part II: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Geonic
and Early Karaite Halakhah </span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">(Hebrew).
New York: 1929.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Harkavy, Albert E., ed. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Sefer
Mitzvot le-Anan. Studien und Mittheilungen aus der K. Oeffentlichen Bibliothek
zu St. Petersburg</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
vol. VIII, St. Petersburg: 1903.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Jacob al-Qirqisani. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Kitab
al-Anwar wal-Maraqib. Code of Karaite Law by Ya‘aqub al-Qirqisani,</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
edited by Leon Nemoy. 5 vols, New York: 1939–1945.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Jehoshua ben Jehuda, ed. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Sources
for Women and Incest Rules among the Karaites. </span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Part
I:</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Sefer ha-Yashar of Jehoshua ben Jehuda</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
(Hebrew), edited by Isaac Dov Markon. St. Petersburg: 1908.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Jehuda Hadassi. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Eshkol
ha-Kofer</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
edition Eupatoria: 1836.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Levi ben Yefet, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Book
of Precepts</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
MS Warner 22 and MS I Firkovitch Heb. A. 613.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Nemoy, Leon. “Two controversial points in the Karaite law of incest.” </span><i>HUCA</i><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
49 (1978): 247–265.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Olszowy-Schlanger, Judith. “La lettre de divorce caraïte et sa place dans
les relations entre Caraïtes et Rabbanites au moyen 'ge.” </span><i>REJ</i><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
155 (1996): 261–285.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Ibid. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Karaite
Marriage Documents from the Cairo Genizah. Legal Tradition and Community Life
in Mediaeval Egypt and Palestine</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
Leiden, New York, Köln: 1998.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Revel, Bernard. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">The
Karaite Halakhah and its Relation to Sadducean, Samaritan and Philonian Halakhah.</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Philadelphia: 1913.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Schechter, Solomon. “Genizah specimens (TS 24.1).” </span><i>JQR</i><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
13 (1900–1901): 218–221.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Ibid. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Documents
of Jewish Sectaries</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
vol. II: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">Fragments
of the Book of Commandments by Anan</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">,
Cambridge: 1910.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none">
Solomon ben David ben Boaz ha-Nasi, I Firk. MS Heb.-Ar. 3921.</span> </p>
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<div class="comments-count">1 Comment</div>
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<mark class="hidden" data-comment-timestamp="1486499873"></mark><div class="submitted"><span class="username"><span lang="" typeof="schema:Person" property="schema:name" datatype="" xml:lang="">Muhammad Elijah</span></span>9 years ago</div>
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<div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden field-item"><p>the Bible (both the Pentateuch and the Prophets and Hagiographa) (al-nass), the analogy (al-qiyas) and the consensus of the nation as a whole (al-ijmaÌ¢âÂèÏ) (Kitab al-Anwar II. 18:1). The latter is often identified with Ì¢âÂÒtraditionÌ¢âÂå (naqal) and Ì¢âÂÒinheritanceÌ¢âÂå (wiratha)</p>
<p>I am a Muslim student of Fiqh:Islamic Jurisprudence.These terms sound very familiar to me.Do modern Karaite scholarship uses these terms in discourse these days?</p>
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</section>Fri, 27 Feb 2009 14:26:49 +0000d8admin4925 at https://jwa.org